


Protection

by writeanddontstop



Category: Henry Cavill - Fandom, mission Impossible Fallout - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventueel Blood, F/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of car accident, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28145511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeanddontstop/pseuds/writeanddontstop
Summary: Mia Makaruku is living her best life: she managed to overcame her rough childhood with tons of losses back in the Netherlands, to move to the USA and eventually joining the Chicago Red Stars. She is a well loved up and coming soccer player and her friends and fans are smitten with her slightly awkward, yet lovable personality. However, after a certain August Walker moves in next door, her life makes a full 180 and it will never be the same again.
Relationships: August Walker/Asian Original Female Character(s), August Walker/Mia Makaruku, August Walker/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

As raindrops are pattering lightly on the window, August Walker sits in the rented U-Haul outside of the apartment building in Chicago, Illinois. His new home.

He takes one more look at the thick file in his hands, his thumb running over her name and he starts shaking his head. He still cannot believe this is his newest mission and he was practically forced into taking it. This isn’t what he usually does. Everything about this operation is something he never did, even before he started working for the CIA.

However, the second he was clearly briefed by Erika Sloane and understood this particular job description, he came to the realization that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Not because the lady he had to watch, protect and befriend was something he really wants to do, but because this case is connected to the myth he had heard so much about.

The money and the files, all securely hidden in a safe no one knows where it’s located. He heard about it when he started working for the CIA and it intrigued him, but there were no connections to anyone or anything.

August opens the file again, taking in once more the picture of twenty five year old rising soccer star, Mia Makaruku. He has a hard time believing this Dutch-Indonesian player, who moved to the USA years ago to play professionally here, is connected to the legendary safe.

Mia is, however, a very interesting looking woman, the type that would make him strain is neck if she walked passed him. Her long wavy hair matches the color of her irises. Thick eyebrows and round cheeks, making her look youthful. Despite the serious expression, she has this twinkling in her light brown, nearly doll like eyes.

Mischievous.

Quite intriguing.

To prepare himself for this job, August watched some of her interviews and he must admit that it’s pretty admirable to see how she carries herself. Especially after going through the stuff she went through as a kid.

At the age of four, Mia was involved in a car accident, together with her parents and three brothers. The Dutch emergency number was called by an unknown woman (who has yet to be found till this day), telling the dispatcher where the accident had happened and that from the looks of it, a man, a woman, three boys between the ages fifteen and twenty and a very young girl were trapped in the vehicle.

By the time the paramedics arrived however, the _very young girl_ was the only one left, sitting on the pavement next to the smashed up vehicle, holding her arm closely to her body as she stared at the trees. She didn’t respond to the efforts of the paramedics, who tried to figure out what happened. She kept repeating: ‘My name is Mia. Mia Makaruku. My name is Mia. Mia Makaruku.’

She went from one foster family to another, barely being able to settle there for more than a year. Not because she was a handful, quite the opposite really. According to the files, almost every family was smitten with her, because of her lovely personality. The reason she kept moving from one family to another, was because specialists spread over Western Europe desperately wanted to figure out Mia’s story.

Yet, nothing seemed to work. She never broke, never told anyone anything about her parents or her brothers. It almost seemed like her family simply vanished out of her memories and never existed.

Despite the disadvantages she has faced in her life, she managed to make a name for herself and she is a well loved player, known all over the world.

But there is one thing August has yet to understand and Erika did not explain it to him either, probably because she doesn’t know either. Why does the CIA think Mia is connected to the legendary safe that was deemed a hoax many years ago?

Mia maybe wasn’t in the system, which is indeed suspicious and no one knew anything about this family. No one recognized little Mia, which made it difficult to identify her family, whose bodies still haven’t been found to this day.

But how is there a connection between her and the safe?

While his job is to find out what happened, he has to keep in mind: Mia was only four years old when her family died. Even if they were connected to the safe and its belongings, how was a young girl suppose to know the fine details about it? While this can seem an impossible task, he figured out stuff during his CIA career with even less clues.

This will be a piece of cake. Besides, Erika did not give him a specific time slot to do this, meaning he can take all the time in the world.

He rummages through the file again, scanning the screenshots made of her Instagram account with his eyes. Mia barely shares pictures of herself. The only recognizable pictures available of her, are those shared on the accounts of her club, taken during her training sessions and competitions and screenshots made by fans during her games. She doesn’t share pictures of her own face on the account _missmiamakaruku_. It almost seems like a pretend account, however it is verified and the CIA established that the account indeed belongs to her.

But another question arises: why does she barely share pictures of herself online? Is there a specific reason she does this? Is it because deep down she is aware of her possible connection to this or to anything significant?

August doubts it, because even if she was aware of a possibility of the connection to the safe, she wouldn’t have become a the star soccer player she is today.

_The center of attention._

August sighs deeply, as he closes the file, staring ahead of him. He must admit, this job is a nice change of scenery. He has done many missions for the CIA and this one almost feels a step closer to a normal life. Something he has craved for so long deep down.

The only thing not normal about this, is the fact he has to keep a close eye on this particular woman, who is an inspiration to girls all over to world.

Erika Sloane specifically told him to befriend her, so maybe he can actually force her into remembering something important by the time she completely trusts him.

August looks to the side at the apartment building. This place, right here in Chicago Illinois, is going to be his new home, for as long as it takes for Mia Makaruku to break.

And he can guarantee: she will.

◎ ◎ ◎

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

My muscles scream bloody murder, as I trudge through the hallways. Did coach Riley _have_ to be so gruesome today? Goodness me, I don’t even know if I’m gonna make it back to my car. However, when I see the coach standing further down the hall, I quickly straighten my back and ignore the slight dulling pain I feel in my ankle and the rest of my leg muscles. ‘Mia,’ coach Riley says in a stern tone as I come closer to her.

 _Oh no_ , I think to myself. I did something terribly wrong. If she uses that tone after the first training of the week, it can only mean I’m in severe trouble. ‘Yes coach?’ I hesitantly ask.

Coach Riley’s looks indicate she is strict. Her blonde hairs are pulled back in a tight knot,a pair of glasses with a thick black frame rests on her nose and the eyeliner that hardens her eyes. While the indication is absolutely one hundred percent correct, you eventually find out she is a sweetheart deep underneath that hard exterior.

When I first arrived in Chicago five years ago, I had no idea what Thanksgiving entailed and I was ready to spend it alone in my apartment. She invited—correction: forced—me to spend time with her family, because she did not want me to sit alone in my apartment on Thanksgiving.

With my last foster family being everything but a great success, it felt good to be welcomed with open arms into a family. I’ve had my fair share of families and while they were all sweet, the last one was a total nightmare. Being slightly traumatized by the experience, it was good to be hugged by a grandma I had never seen before.

Hugs from grandma’s do wonders.

‘You did good today,’ coach says.

Great, now I know for sure I have severely fucked up. If coach Riley starts with a compliment, she is going to break some pretty bad news within a few seconds. I have trained with her for a little over five years. I know her and her odd and slightly crude way of communicating.

‘Okay?’ I say, waiting for the bomb to drop.

‘However, I want you to take it easy, so next training you’re going to train with Tristan on the side of the field.’

‘Come on, coach,’ I whine. ‘Why?’

‘Upcoming Saturday it’s the second to last game of the year. I need you top fit then.’

‘But I am top fit. Honestly!’

Coach Riley isn’t impressed, but to be honest: when is she ever? If this woman has made a decision, she’ll simply power through, no discussion possible. ‘You take it easy during tomorrows training and you listen carefully to Tristan. I noticed a limp on the field just now.’

‘There wasn’t a limp,’ I say. ‘I swear, it’s nothing to worry ab— Okay, I’ll take it easy tomorrow,’ I quickly say when I see her cocked eyebrow that does not bode well.

She finally smiles. ‘Good. Now scocch, I don’t want to look at your face any longer.’

Just when you think she is finally a little bit approachable and kind, she thankfully does this, because her smile was nearly creeping me out. I can’t stop my chuckle. ‘See you tomorrow, coach,’ I say, holding up my hand as I continue to walk through the hallways.

The closer I get to the exit, the colder it becomes. When I’m training, I somehow forget about the ice cold temperatures. However, when I’m not training, which is the majority of the day, I remember we are nearing the winterbreak and that handling these types of temperatures, is not one of my strengths.

I tense up when I step outside and if my ankle wasn’t slightly bothering me, I’d run to my car. When I reached the vehicle, I quickly step in and start to heat it up. My car, unfortunately, isn’t the most advanced and it takes quite some time before it’s even remotely warm. I shiver in the drivers seat. My phone peeps in my pocket and I pull it out, to check the notification that popped up on my screen.

**Reminder to yourself:** YOU NEED TO DO SOME GROCERIES. GET YOUR FAT ASS CAT SOMETHING TO EAT.

No, no, no, I forgot. I _totally_ forgot. I curse morning-me for sleeping in today. If I had just done groceries this morning _before_ practice, I could’ve go home now. Why was I lazy and chose an extra hour of sleep over doing something actually productive?

I drive off the parking lot, wave to some of my teammates and go to the nearest grocery store. If I have a clear idea of what I want before I go into the store, I can actually manage to do this pretty swiftly and then go home, so I can curl up on the couch to watch yet another cheesy Christmas movie. I desperately need to buy some food for my cat, some eggs and chocolate and… Do I need more?

_This is why one makes shopping lists._

‘You idiot,’ I mumble to myself, as I park the car in front of the store. I get out and walk to the entrance. While I’m strolling through the aisles, to at least get the eggs, cat food and chocolate I do know I need, I hear some girls giggling behind me.

I look over my shoulder to my right and see two young girls standing at the produce section. When they look away, I see a glimpse of their red cheeks and notice they are both wearing Chicago Red Star jerseys. I can’t—and won’t—stop my smile. ‘Hi,’ I say to them, causing them to carefully wave at me.

They shyly wave back. ‘Are you Mia Makaruku?’ one girl asks when she finally found the courage to do so.

I nod. ‘The one and only.’

They look at each other and exchange some excited looks. ‘Can we get a picture?’

This has been my favorite part of the job so far. I mean, sure, I love soccer with all my life, however seeing girls this age cheering me on during the competitions and hearing about how they watch clips of me, so they can learn from my techniques, makes me realize I love that even more. They call me their role model and with the status I have, I can actually be one for them. It’s a job I should take seriously and I do.

When kids tell me they are going to try and watch the European Championship for Women’s Soccer, because I am on the Dutch National Team, I try even harder to be the best player of the competition and be a model for them to look up to. Be someone for them I wished I had when I was younger.

I nod again at the girls. ‘Of course. I love your shirts. Tell me: whose name do you have on the back?’

They start to laugh and turn around, showing the backs of their shirts. ‘Yours of course!’

◎ ◎ ◎

Life hasn’t always been sunshine and rainbows for me. I just barely think about it nowadays, since it only leaves me with more questions than answers and I’d rather not wander in the dark like that. It’s weird to think about the things I do remember and don’t.

I do remember the second we skidded off the road. I don’t remember I had a mother or father or three brothers with me in the car. I do remember eventually taking the officer’s hand and despite repeating my name like mantra, kept asking him if he had heard my name correctly. I don’t remember any bodies on the scene, because there weren’t any and I also don’t know how their bodies disappeared.

It’s hard sometimes, knowing there is a memory inside my head that I simply can’t reach, but also not knowing what I’m missing in life. Did my parents love me? Did I have a good bond with my brothers? Was there a specific reason I wasn’t in the system? Why weren’t there other people with the same last name in the Netherlands who recognized me?

I moved from foster family to foster family, while trying to regain my memories by visiting multiple specialists. I went to a lot of places. To England, Ireland, France and Luxembourg, but no one could help me out. At the age of twelve, they simply stopped trying, because it was no use anyways and there was one family back in the Netherlands who insisted on me staying in one place for a change.

Thankfully they did, however I only stayed with them for four years, before I moved to my final family, that was a hell to put it mildly.

Finally, for the first time in yearsI wasn’t going from one specialist to another and there was one place where I was always—despite the family—welcome: my soccer team. In all those years of me visiting specialists, there was always one thing I looked for: a ball to kick around. Soccer was my love, my passion and the only thing I started to care about.

And now I have managed to not only make a name for myself in the USA, but also worldwide. When I was nineteen, I debuted in the Dutch National Team during the European Championship and my performance there was what caught the attention of the Chicago Red Stars. I could leave the small SC Heerenveen in the Netherlands behind and go to the USA. I had seen the American National Team. They were exceptionally good and now I got to play alongside some of them.

My first World Championship was when I was twenty one and the Dutch team was in the finals against the USA. Despite my two goals, the USA was too good and beat us with 4-2. Sure, I was disappointed, but still I was very pleased with the fact that the Netherlands became second and it was such a highlight in my seemingly short professional soccer career thus far.

I managed to overcome all these things and still be the person I am today. Since I can’t remember my past, I made it my mission in life to make the most of my future.

Don’t ask me how, but I managed to come back from the store with three full bags. Apparently, if you wander through the aisles long enough, you’ll find tons of excuses to buy crap you didn’t even need in the first place.

I’m finally back at my apartment building and the automatic doors slide open as I reach them. I walk towards the reception and I say with a smile: ‘Hello Harold, how are you today?'

Harold, the clerk behind the reception who is nearing his pension, greets me with his signature smile and I see the two familiar dimples form in his cheeks. ‘Hello, miss Mia, I’m doing splendid this Monday. How was your training today?’

I simply shrug. ‘It was okay, but I have to take it easy now.’ I can’t help but to roll my eyes. ‘According to my coach, I was “slightly limping” and she needs me top fit this Saturday.’

He scrunches up his nose. ‘But my dear, I think you are incapable of taking things easy. Isn’t your coach aware of that?’

I can’t help but laugh. I always like to talk to Harold, it’s so easy to strike up a conversation with him. ‘I think she just wants to bully me. Is there by the way any mail for me?’

‘There certainly is. Three envelopes for you. Almost makes you seem like a very important lady.’ He sends me a playful wink. ‘Oh, before I forget: I told you about the apartment next to you being sold, right?’

I nod. ‘Does this mean Mystery Person is finally moving in?’ I ask.

Harold nods. ‘He moved in today.’

‘Ah, it’s a man. Is he hot?’

He shrugs. ‘He is pretty stuffy and a bit authoritarian looking. I was hoping for someone as radiant as you. I think we need more people like you around here, not a copy of miss Thornhill.’

I throw my long brown hair over my shoulder. ‘Well, what can I say?’ I chuckle. ‘Not everyone is a ray of sunshine like yours truly. Is there mail for him as well? I can bring it to him.’

‘An envelope did arrive, indeed. I don’t think he will go down here to pick it up. We barely made eye contact today. I hardly even know if he is aware there is a reception, let alone that I’m the clerk.’ He hands me the other yellow envelope and says: ‘Are you sure you want to do this, miss?’

‘Absolutely positive. It might be nice to get to know my next door neighbor. Let’s hope he is not a gigolo. I really can’t use sleepless nights anymore. I have two important games coming up, I need my rest.’

‘Mister Toriello was quite the man,’ Harold laughs. ‘Thank you, my dear, for doing this.’

‘No problem, Harold. See you later!’ I walk to the elevator and hold my card in front of the scanner. The doors slide open and when I get in, I press button number nine. I look at the name on the envelope. It’s actually addressed with a sticker, no handwriting, which I find so impersonal.

_A. Walker_

A. Walker is probably the most generic name I’ve ever heard. This man could be anybody. Would he be bald, have a beer belly and burps all the time or would he be young, attractive and actually a chance for me to leave my forever alone status behind?

While that would be nice, Harold did say that the man was quite stuffy and authoritarian looking.

As someone with barely any date experience (none at all, actually), I’d say stuffy and authoritarian looking isn’t really my type, but never say never right?

The doors open and I step out on my own floor. I walk through the broad hallways and stop in front of apartment number 943. From behind the door, I can hear someone dragging furniture around the apartment and an occasional male grunt. I knock on the door and just hope that he can hear me. I don’t want to start banging on the door like an idiot.

Thankfully, he did hear me, because footsteps approach the door and when it swings open, my eyes widen.

The man standing in the doorway, does not match the generic sounding _A. Walker_ name at all. He is tall, with broad shoulders and the shortsleeved shirt he is wearing, totally accentuates his muscled biceps. I mean, the body is a total A+ (I don’t think I have ever seen someone this buff, while still being proportionate), his face on the other hand… I mean, he does have a beautifully sculpted face and it looks rather perfect, don’t get me wrong, but he looks so angry with that deep frown between his brows and the mustache isn’t really my thing either. Kinda ruins his entire face, if I’m being honest. ‘Who are you?’ he asks, his voice monotone and already bored.

That is not a good start.

‘I’m Mia,’ I introduce myself with a smile, because smiles make people comfortable and this man does not look comfortable. ‘I live next door, in apartment 944. I brought you your mail.’ I extend my arm, so I can hand him the yellow envelope. ‘Thought it would be nice, since we’re neighbors after all.’

He rips the envelope out of my hand and is actually inspecting the seal on it. I am deeply offended. Why on earth would he think that low of me? As if I would snoop through other people’s mail.

After his thorough inspection, he looks at me again. His eyes take me in and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest. The shirt has a slight v neck and is that a tiny bit of chest hair I detect?

I’m almost expecting something condescending leaving his lips (he seems like the type), but _A. Walker_ doesn’t say a word. He simply stares at me and now I kinda regret bringing his mail with me.

He looks and acts like an utter asshole.

‘What’s your name?’ I carefully ask him. Despite him looking like an absolute dick, I do think this is a man you might want to have on your good side. After all, he is my neighbor, I don’t want him to hate me, especially since from the looks of it this man can break me in half with just his pinky, which is intimidating on its own.

‘August Walker,’ he says, tilting his head, as he seems to scan my entire face. ‘Aren’t you that soccer player?’

Before I can even stop it, a smile breaks out on my face. I always like it when people acknowledge the fact that I’m a soccer player. I worked really hard to get where I am now and when people recognize me as _that soccer player_ , it makes me happy. ‘I am,’ I say with an even brighter smile.

Maybe he isn’t so bad after all…

‘I hate women’s soccer.’

I’m dumbfounded. Why on earth does he have to be so rude? What on earth did I do to him to deserve this? What a fucking dickhead. I can’t believe I was actually trying to make a good impression on him. Maybe I don’t want him to be on my good side. Maybe I sort of miss mister Toriello now, with his late night adventures with very noisy female customers. At least he was nice enough to bring me cookies every now and then, to apologize for the noise.

I highly doubt August Walker knows how to bake cookies, let alone buy some of them to apologize for the inconvenience, whatever that may be.

‘Why?’ I ask, as my expression falters.

‘It’s stupid,’ he simply states. To make it even worse, he adds a shrug, as if it’s a well known fact and not just some stupid opinion. ‘Not as advanced as male soccer.’

I frown, as I try to cover up the fact I’m deeply hurt. ‘Well, that’s okay. To each their own,’ I say to him. ‘If we are being frank here: I think your mustache is pretty stupid.’

He simply raises his eyebrows, while his eyes still look bored and annoyed. ‘You do?’ he asks me. ‘Why is that?’

‘I don’t know. It makes you look like a pedophile, really. Have a good day, mister Walker.’ I walk towards my own door and barge inside.

Who gave mister August Walker the _right_ to be this rude to me, someone who he barely knows? What a piece of shit.

My big orange cat Bobo walks up to me and he starts to meow, pulling me out of my racing thoughts.

The hairy companion makes me instantly forget about my new neighbor. ‘Hi, Bobo,’ I say with a chuckle. ‘I missed you too, little fella.’ I place the bags on the floor, before I lift him up, to press tons of kisses on his head. He purrs in my ear. ‘I bought you some food, so that means you can finally stop putting your head in my bowl and be a decent cat from now on.’

‘Meow.’

‘That’s what I thought.’


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning I finally decide to do the smart thing: I get up at seven in the morning, to clean my apartment, start prepping some meals and work through the piles of laundry I have neglected these past few days.

Okay, I didn’t necessarily do that because I decided to be a productive woman for once and try to get most out of my day, but it is mostly because I couldn’t sleep anymore. I have been having nightmares since I can remember, which is probably since the fatal car crash that killed not only my parents, but also my brothers.

At least, that is what I’m told.

I remember crashing, I remember being out of the car and waiting for the emergency services, but I don’t remember my family maybe running away, their bodies being dragged away from me. They could be anywhere, really.

_Dead or alive._

But ever since that crash, I have nightmares. Sometimes there is a loud crash or a fire I can’t escape or I’m drowning.

Usually I wake up at least once—but mostly twice—in the middle of the night, but last night I slept through. That seems nice, but I was woken up abruptly, since it felt like I was falling off a building.

While I’m putting the salad in the containers and I place them neatly in the fridge, I hear someone knocking on my door. _This early?_ What idiot is up already and wants to bother me? I walk to the door and once I open it, a nasty surprise awaits me.

‘What do you want?’ I ask the one and only August Walker. After yesterday, I have decided that I don’t want to be his friendly neighbor. He hurt me feelings and doesn’t deserve anymore of my kindness.

‘My heater is broken,’ he simply announces.

And for that he knocks on my door? ‘Sucks to be you,’ I tell him.

‘I only have one blanket and my other clothes are coming in later this morning, just as the mechanic.’

I’m flabbergasted to say the least. ‘And you are sharing this information with me, because…?’ I know damn well why he is sharing this with me, but I’m not _that_ easy.

August sighs, visibly annoyed. ‘Because I was hoping I could stay here with you for a while.’

I bark out a laugh. ‘Are you kidding me? After what you said to me yesterday, you honestly think I would let you in my apartment? I would be bat shit crazy if I did that. You insulted me, August.’

‘I barely insulted you.’

He has some nerves. ‘You said you hated women’s soccer to a professional _female_ soccer player.’ I give him a _do I need to explain any further_ -look.

‘You told me my moustache made me look like a pedophile.’

I cock an eyebrow. ‘That was only _after_ you insulted me. Had you never been mean to me, I would’ve kept it to myself. But that is beyond the point, really. The real question is: why are you bothering me?’

He clenches his jaw. He probably thought that with his brooding look and broad build, he could intimidate me into letting him in my house. Well, he thought wrong. ‘I just want to stay here for a few hours, till eleven. I won’t bother you, I promise, but I’m really cold.’

I lean against the doorframe, as I check my watch. ‘That is three hours,’ I tell him. ‘I can barely deal with you for three minutes, let alone three _hours._ The answer is no. Just fuck off, will you?’

August wants to hold back a laugh, but fails miserably. ‘You sure mean that,’ he chuckles. I know I shouldn’t think like this, but he looks actually very friendly when he laughs, even if he is laughing _at_ me. ‘Listen, I might’ve made a bad impression on you yesterday.’

‘You _might’ve_? Goodness gracious, do you have any self reflection? You definitely made a bad impression.’

He sighs, but almost has something from a growl. ‘It’s a few hours, Mia. What’s the big deal?’

What’s the big deal? This man has got quite some guts, it’s almost admirable. ‘Well,’ I say, incapable of saying no to him, ‘if I can get an apology, you can stay here. Saying sorry is not that hard, even you can do it.’

‘I don’t do apologies.’

 _Of course he doesn’t._ I’m not even surprised. ‘And I don’t give shelter to my shitty neighbors, even if it’s only for three hours. Goodbye August. Please, freeze to death.’

I want to close the door, but he simply places his hand on the flat surface. Fuck, he is strong, those arms certainly are not lying. The battle August Walker vs Mia Makaruku is a quick one and not in my favor, I can tell you that. ‘I don’t want to freeze to death, so I’m gonna say this one time and one time only, so you better listen carefully: I’m sorry I was rude.’

I smile. ‘See, it wasn’t that hard. I also liked it that you really sincerely apologized, meaning in from the bottom of your heart.’

I know I’m pushing the limits here. August glares at me, but even through the death glare he is sending me, I can actually see some humanity in his light orbs. I actually feel a bit sorry for him. I know, that surprises me too.

‘Come on. Just don’t bother me too much and the second the mechanic is here, I want you out of my apartment.’

‘Doable.’ I have barely stepped aside, when he barges into my apartment. He has the audacity to plop on my couch, grab the remote and turn on the television.

‘Yes August, please make yourself at home. Do you want a coffee with that? Some homemade chocolate croissants? A fucking massage?’ I slam the door shut and when I look at him, I notice the smug smile on his face because of my offers. I let out a growl. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

Unbeknownst of the company, Bobo trots into the room. When his eyes land on the stranger on the couch, he arches his back with his hackles raised and hisses. I’m glad to know my furry companion thinks just as lowly of the—sort of—uninvited guest as I do. ‘I’m not a big fan of cates,’ August notes.

‘I’m almost assuming this is your first time you’re over at someones place,’ I say. ‘You sure know how to _not_ behave yourself. If you don’t like him, go back to your own place.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll stop. What do I do if he comes near me?’ August looks up at me. ‘Do I just hiss back?’

Thankfully I can manage to keep a straight face. ‘That’s an option,’ I tell him, as I walk back to my kitchen. _Do I hiss back?_ It’s nearly endearing, especially since it’s coming from a tough looking guy like August Walker. I prepare my coffee machine and ask: ‘Do you want some coffee?’ While I don’t necessarily want him here, I might make most out of it. Besides, I can’t possibly imagine someone is as rude as him without a reason.

Maybe he had a shitty youth. I mean, I encountered my fair share of foster siblings and some of them were rude as hell, but when I learned about their family situation, prior to this foster home, I realized they had every reason to act like they did. While my coping mechanism is to charm my ass off and make a good impression on everyone (and I mean literally everyone), August’s way to dealing with his trauma’s can be to push people away. However, I do think he desperately wants to make a connection. Despite not totally getting it, he did come to me when his heater broke, so that must mean I’m maybe the only one who is trying to be nice to him? Give him a chance, while he might not deserve it?

Right?

‘Sure,’ August says, while keeping a close eye on Bobo, who stares at him with his back still arched. ‘What’s the cat’s name?’

‘Bobo,’ I answer him. ‘I got him from the shelter. Fun story: I was actually looking to adopt a dog, but when I walked passed Bobo’s cage, I couldn’t say no to him. Like it was an instant click between us.’

August doesn’t say anything, so apparently he doesn’t agree on this being a fun story. While the coffee is running, I walk back to the living room, but as I pass a mirror, I manage to hold in my gasp.

I look like crap! I’m still wearing my flannel pajamas that are actually three sizes too large for me and I actually don’t think I can call this frizzy mess on my head, hair. I also have not put on any moisturizer yet and it shows.

To kind of make myself a bit more presentable, I twist my hair in a bun, to sort of contain it.

Yesterday I looked pretty put together. Today I look like an utter mess. I can barely blame August for not taking me seriously. I plop on the seat and Bobo jumps on the armrest. The orange cat sits down, but continues to take August in.

‘The staring is making me uncomfortable,’ August mentions.

‘You seem so tough, but looks can be very deceiving,’ I chuckle.

‘That’s not funny.’

‘It’s hilarious, you should grow a sense of humor,’ I retort. ‘Okay, tell me something fun about yourself.’

August frowns. ‘Why on earth would I do that?’

‘Because I’m providing you shelter,’ I say. ‘Honestly, it’s the least you can do. Tell me something fun. There must be something fun about you.’

‘You have to give me more than that,’ he mutters. ‘I don’t like talking about myself and I certainly can’t do it on the spot.’

Okay, that’s fair, I can’t do that either. ‘From where did you move here?’

August lets out a deep breath, as I watch him caressing his own thigh. It almost looks like he is soothing himself. Is this question making him uncomfortable? ‘Montana,’ he says, but it’s not very convincing. Hearing from his tone, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

‘You want a pet?’ I continue trying to strike up a conversation. I don’t want to stare at him for three hours (not that I would complain about it, because the view is pretty okay, it’s just slightly weird) and I need him to talk, because otherwise I have to kick him out.

‘I’m not a big fan of animals. As a matter of fact, I don’t even like animals.’

‘That’s really sad,’ I say, as I scratch Bobo behind his ears, earning me some load purring. ‘Animals are very nice and you always have someone to cuddle with. Or doesn’t August Walker like cuddles either?’

He looks over at me, not amused. ‘Do we have to talk?’ he asks, expertly avoiding my question, sarcastic or not.

‘Yes, we do. If you don’t want to talk, ask me something and at least pretend to listen when I do so.’

August cocks an eyebrow, before he thinks about it for a while. ‘Are you ever afraid of life?’

‘Geez,’ I exclaim, ‘way to make it this depressing in the morning!’

He simply shrugs. ‘You wanted me to ask you something.’

I sink deeper into the backrest of my soft one person sofa. The question does make me think. I’d like to surround myself with positivity, ignoring the bad things happening in the world and not think about the darker aspects in life. I know that is not very healthy and you should be aware of the things happening around you, but it has helped me through tough times in life.

But when I think about it, about the uglier side of life, I realize one thing. ‘I am afraid of life,’ I say.

‘Why?’ he asks.

‘Because it can be scary sometimes. Unpredictable.’ The sounds of screeching tires, a loud crash and the car tumbling over all flashes through my mind. ‘It can be painful.’ Realizing how upsetting this all sounds, I grab a pillow from behind me and throw it to August. ‘Why are you so damn miserable?’ I ask him. ‘We should start the day on a happy note, not make it this depressing.’

August breaks out in a smile and when he does so, he looks approachable. Not like my shitty and rude neighbor, but like a nice guy. ‘Well, your questions were too generic.’

‘Yours are too depressing.’

For a few seconds we simply look at each other, before we both burst out in laughter. It’s nice to see August Walker like this. He doesn’t look stuffy anymore and he lost the arrogant glow. ‘Well, while you think of more lighter questions, I’ll get the coffee. You want milk or sugar in it?’

‘No, just black will do.’

I walk to the kitchen, pour in the coffee in two bright red mugs and hand him one. ‘There you go,’ I say to him.

He simply takes it out of my hand, but I continue to hold it. ‘What are you doing?’

‘One usually says thank you when he or she receives something from someone.’ I remember it clearly, when one of my first foster parents taught me some lessons in being polite. Back then it was said in a loving way. Now I recreate the entire scene in more of a mocking tone.

August rolls his eyes, exactly as I expected him to do. ‘Thank you,’ he grumbles. ‘You happy now?’

‘Absolutely delighted.’

◎ ◎ ◎

At eleven ‘o clock sharp, August left because the mechanic arrived. Not long after that, I had to go to practice. Because of the presence of my neighbor the entire morning, I actually forgot about having to train with Tristan on the side of the field. I wondered what on earth I did to displease coach Riley. Okay, I know she does this because it is for my own good, but for fuck’s sake, I have never felt so humiliated in my time I’ve trained with the Red Stars.

Thankfully the awful training finally ended and at around five in the late afternoon, I’m back at my apartment building. When the doors slid open, I see Harold standing behind the reception as usual. I glide through the hallway and manage to stop right in front of him on the other side of the desk. ‘Hello Harold,’ I say to him.

‘Hello miss Mia,’ he says to me, as he places his under arms on the flat surface of his desk. ‘You seem awfully cheery today. I thought you had to take it easy today during training.’

Am I cheery? My teammates said this to me as well today, before I remembered I had to train on the side of the field and now Harold mentions it too? I don’t really know why I would be— Oh no! Does this mean what I think it means?

Did I _enjoy_ August’s company this morning?

Well, to be honest, it was actually quite nice from time to time. I have been spending most of my time alone in my apartment (actually all the time). I mean, I love my teammates and we hang out after practice sometimes, but they have their own lives, their own families.

I don’t want to intrude, though they invite me from time to time. It’s more that I’m scared to join them. What if they only ask me to join them, because they want to be nice and polite?

After we talked for a while this morning, August and I, we spend some time watching television. It was almost as if we were alone together and that felt quite nice.

‘Just woke up in a cheery mode,’ I say, though it’s not exactly the truth. ‘Is there any mail for me?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, miss.’

‘For my new neighbor then?’

Harold shakes his head again. ‘How is he anyways? Heard about his heater being broken.’

I smile. ‘Well, he quite nice actually. Bit stuffy, like you said, but once you get to know him, he can be nice from time to time.’

‘Is that why you are cheery?’ he asks.

‘What?’ I exclaim. How did Harold guess that right away? _Yes!_ ‘No, what on earth would give you that impression?’

Harold tries to keep a straight face, but he fails and I realize I’ve been caught red handed. ‘Well, miss Mia,’ he says, thankfully not adding any fuel to this disastrous situation, ‘I’m glad to know that you manage to make even him likable. You are a very special lady.’

‘Right,’ I say, after I cleared my throat. ‘I’m gonna go. See you later, Harold.’

He chuckles. ‘Later, miss.’

When I step out on the right floor, I let out a deep sigh. Is it true? Am I cheery because of August Walker? Who would’ve guessed. When I pass his door and I fumble with my keys, I hear a door open. I look to my side and see August stepping into the hallway.

‘Good afternoon, neighbor,’ I say to him. ‘How are you?’

He doesn’t smile and the nice August I saw every so often this morning, has disappeared into thin air. While I want to be annoyed by it, I can’t help but notice to see the slight pain in his eyes. I saw it this morning and I see it now. From the looks of it, he is hurting and I relate. I know how it feels.

But what I also know is that deep down there is a lovely soul, it’s just protected by a very thick wall.

‘Good afternoon,’ he hums. ‘I realized I took this from you.’ He holds out the red mug I handed to him three times this morning. This man gulps down coffee as if it is water and for a second I was genuinely concerned he would have a caffeine overdose.

He seems to have managed just fine.

‘Oh, thank you,’ I say as I take it from him when he stepped closer to me. ‘I probably wouldn’t have missed it. I have way too many mugs, but thanks anyways.’

The way August is hot and cold within a matter of seconds, is something I should put up with from now on. I have decided to give this man with some pretty poor social skills the benefit of the doubt. Besides, I actually quite enjoy having him around.

_No wonder I was cheery today._

August buries his hands in his pockets and is probably waiting for me to say something.

‘Your heater fixed?’ I ask.

He simply nods. ‘Yes, all good now.’

Is he waiting again for me to say something? This man… Before I can even think about the pros and cons of my very impulsive idea, I ask him: ‘Do you have plans tomorrow night?’

‘I don’t,’ he says, before he frowns. 'Why?’

‘I have two tickets for a Bulls game.’

He looks confused. ‘A what game?’

‘Bulls game. Chicago Bulls. Basketball,’ I clarify. ‘I mean, you can go with me if you want.’

‘And why would I want to do that?’

‘Because I’m the loveliest neighbor and human being for that matter, you have ever encountered in your life and you desperately want to spend more time with me.’

August doesn’t smile. Maybe he is conflicted, because he occasionally let his guard down this morning.

And maybe this question is way too much. I don’t really understand I was questioning his social skills this morning, while I’m out here overstepping all sorts of boundaries.

‘Sure,’ he however says to my surprise. ‘I can’t really think of worse things to do tomorrow.’

‘You’re such an asshole,’ I tell him. ‘You were quite nice this morning in my apartment.What changed?’ I don’t give him time to answer. ‘Oh wait, I think I get it. It’s this hallway that turns you into a complete asshole.’

‘You can still un-invite me,’ he says, with an amused glimmer in his eyes.

‘I can do that of course, however believe it or not, I barely have friends and the few I have, all have their own social circles and don’t like to go to Bulls games.’

‘Then why did you purchase two tickets?’

‘Because it was cheaper to buy two tickets and I’d like to live up to the stereotype that the Dutch are stingy cheapskates.’

‘I can tell you, Mia, it’s working,’ he says. ‘Someone without friends who want to go to Bulls games with her, purchases two tickets, simply because it’s cheaper.’

I stick out my tongue. ‘Well, whatever. It starts tomorrow at six and it’s within walking distance from here. You have time?’

‘I sure do.’

‘And you still want to go with me?’

He nods.

‘Well, see you tomorrow then, August.’

He looks at me, a long and intense stare, before he says: ‘See you tomorrow, Mia.’


	4. Chapter 4

August stands in front of his window, as he stares at the people who march through the streets, folding in their umbrella’s as it finally stopped raining. However, August keeps thinking about one thing and one thing only.

_Mia._

Her unique and special self, is not like anyone August has ever encountered. He isn’t sure how to handle this entire mission, especially because it became a whole lot more complicated than anyone originally anticipated. Befriending someone isn’t exactly his forte, but befriending Mia went shockingly easy. Of course, they experienced some bumps along the tiny way they have known one another, but being around her is so effortless.

And maybe that is what terrifies him the most. That she is so kind and so nice, making a friendship in the near future really easy.

When Mia stood in front of his door with the envelope in her hand—being the nice woman and neighbor she is—it made him do the thing he always does: being mean and rude, hoping the person on the receiving end of it would go away. It’s familiar, thus the safest option for him. Yes, it was the exact opposite of what Erika told him to do and he sure will not brief her about that incident, but he couldn’t help it. It just simply left his lips.

August did think she would scoff, walk away and he would’ve made his own job a whole lot harder.

But he was told his moustache made him look like a pedophile and that comment may have resulted in him standing in front of his mirror for what felt like hours, thinking about shaving it or leaving it.

All because one woman said it to him. He never lets things go to his head like that.

Thankfully his heater broke and he realized he got a second change to make things right with Mia, just as Erika told him to do and wanted him to do. He knew it would be hard, but he simply decided to shoot his shot.

The conclusion? Mia Makaruku has a heart of gold and she is way too good for him. Being around her felt neighborly, friendly and it made him feel normal. While protecting her and trying to make her remember the important things, it doesn’t feel like a job. August actually wants to do this, whether he was getting paid or not.

He thinks about her in a more friendly manner. First, he had to protect her because it was asked of him.

Now he actually wants to.

August places his hands on window frame, as he listens closely if he can hear a knock on his door, so they can leave together for the Bulls game. August pretends to be a bit confused on why he said yes to her. He doesn’t like basketball and doesn’t even really understand it, but saying no to Mia’s eyes, as she was slightly jumping up and down with happiness when she asked him, is something he couldn’t do.

This is going to be quite something.

The sound of faint knocking on his door, is what drags him out of his thoughts. He nearly sprints to the door, only to realize he is way too ready for this. For fuck’s sake, calm yourself.

He takes another calming breath as he tries to remind himself this is just very convenient, as he has to keep a close eye on her. According to the text Erika send him an hour ago, he must watch her as much as he can.

Meaning: he has to stalk her, even when she is at practice. Or he could make it easier for himself and be friends with her, so he has an excuse to be around her a whole lot more.

Once August opens the door, he sees Mia standing there in a way he has never seen her before. He saw her twice in sportswear and once in an oversized pajama with exploded frizzy hair, but now she has actually really dressed herself up.

‘Hello neighbor,’ she says with a bright smile.

August can’t help but stare at her and take her in. Mia straightened her wavy hair for the occasion and she even put on some light make-up; he notices she is wearing mascara for the first time, her plump lips are a blush pink color and he sees the glimmer on her cheekbones. Her coat hangs open, revealing a tight black shirt, grey plaid loose fitting pants with black and white accents, part with a pair of heeled boots.

He has to clear his throat to simply stop himself from gawking.

‘Are you okay?’ Mia asks him. ‘You haven’t said anything yet and it’s kinda scaring me.’

‘What do you want me to say?’ he asks, as he deeply frowns out of confusion.

‘I’m torn between a nice compliment or something condescending.’ She chuckles. ‘Come on, say something to me.’

‘I’m not a dog,’ he huffs. ‘You can’t order me to do stuff.’

She rolls her large eyes. ‘You’re such a party pooper,’ she tells him. ‘Since you’re not going to make me feel special, we should get going.’

After he put on his coat, he closes the door behind him and the two of them exit their apartment building. It is pretty interesting that Mia doesn’t just walk, but she has a certain hop in her steps. She also likes to talk his ear off and she greets a lot of people on the street.

‘So, I had to train on the side today. _Again._ Honestly, I’m so embarrassed. Like coach Riley is purposely trying to make me feel like shit. Besides, I’m not even limping anymore, so I don’t understand the point.’

‘You were limping?’ August asks.

‘Monday I slightly was, but it wasn’t even that bad. She is overreacting.’

It leaves his lips before he can even think about it: ‘She is just watching out for you.’

‘Oh, look at you,’ she says, ‘standing up for someone you don’t know.’ She tugs his sleeve with both of her hands. ‘You should stand up for me. Take my side in this story.’

He might find her absolutely adorable.

‘August, please, just say to me that it’s really unfair and that coach is being such a bitch for not letting me normally train.’

‘I’m not gonna do that,’ he says. ‘As a matter of fact, I think you totally deserve it.’

She fake gasps, but starts to laugh. Her hands slide from his sleeve to his own hands, before she entirely let him go. ‘You are so rude, mister.’

He accepts the insult Mia doesn’t mean anyway, while he still thinks about her hands holding his for a second.

‘So,’ she says, pulling him out of his thoughts, ‘tell me this then: are you excited for the game? They are playing against the Clippers tonight.’

‘I don’t know anything about basketball, nor the Bulls, nor the Clippers.’

‘You didn’t do research?’ she asks him. ‘You are so inconsiderate. Do I have to tell you everything?’

He doesn’t quite understand where she’s going at, so he simply scoffs and the two of them go to the stadium. Maybe he is a bit surprised, but she has actual court side tickets. Now, August wasn’t particularly interested into going to a basketball game, but with court side tickets? A lot is made up for. He is practically on the court!

‘This must’ve been pretty expensive,’ he notes.

She smiles as they walk towards their seats. ‘Well, that’s why I couldn’t say no to thisspecial discount. When it comes to money, I know exactly what I’m doing. And it got me two court side tickets. Isn’t it great?’

He has to agree, this is sort of awesome.

He sits down next to her and takes in the entire stadium. The people who arrive, the music, the weird mascot that is kinda freaking him out. He looks to the side, to see Mia trying to shimmy herself out of her coat. He reaches out, to pull the coat off her shoulders and she looks to the side. ‘Thank you, August,’ she says. ‘That’s quite nice of you.’

‘I can be nice,’ he murmurs.

‘I bet you can.’ She nudges his side with her elbow. ‘And? What do you think? Do you like it?’

‘It’s not as terrible as I imagined it would be.’

‘You can just say you like it,’ Mia pushes with a smile. ‘I guarantee: I won’t tell anyone.’

August stares in her large eyes and for a second he gets lost. He wonders about her. About her feelings… _What the hell is happening to him?_

How does Mia feel about her past, about her career, about him. Part of him wants to be honest with her, tell her about his intentions, because keeping this a secret from her, doesn’t sit right with him. However, telling her the truth, isn’t an option.

‘I might like it,’ August mumbles.

She laughs. ‘You’re learning, very good. I’m proud of you.’

Mia stares at the field, claps whenever something happens and pokes his side every time the Bulls score. He is just still thinking about her saying she’s proud of him.

When was the last time someone said that to him?

However, he can finally manage to pull himself out of his racing thoughts, since there is a man on the fifth row at about two ‘o clock from them, staring at Mia. It’s not the staring per se what’s bothering him; a lot of men were already gawking at her on the way here and also when the two of them walking into the stadium. This is August instinct and training telling him it isn’t right.

As if it’s a new realization of what he came here to do. He is not only here to pull information from Mia about the safe, but also to protect her, he knows that. There is a lot of damaging information in that safe and if it lands in the wrong hands, according to Erica, an entire war could break out, between anyone really. The recent intel on the safe, is that it’s real and if the CIA can find out that Mia is related to it, anyone eventually can.

He looks over to the side, to Mia and he finds himself being insanely protective over her. It would absolutely kill him if something happens to her.

If this happens within a few days of him meeting her, he wonders what will happen when they see each other more often for, well, weeks or something?

August places his arm on the backrest of her seat and she manages to tear her gaze from the field. ‘What on earth are you doing?’ she asks him.

‘There is someone staring at you.’

Mia bursts out in laughter, actually missing the Bulls scoring. ‘And you are marking your territory?’ she asks. ‘Well, August, you might just turn into a dog and start peeing all over me to let everyone know I’m yours.’

He doesn’t want to do it, but a chuckle escapes his lips anyways. Mia really is something else. ‘That is not what I’m doing,’ he tells her.

‘Then what are you doing?’

What is he doing? He tries to figure out an excuse. Normally, he would’ve had one in less than a second, but Mia is slowing him down and that is pretty dangerous, if he thinks about it a bit better. He is slightly nervous around her, which is embarrassing to admit. ‘I just don’t like it,’ he says.

‘The staring or the man who the staring is coming from?’

‘The latter,’ he admits, not being able to look at her anymore. Fuck, this is awkward. He doesn’t want to talk to her about this kind of stuff.

Mia nudges his side with her entire body. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I’d rather you do this to mark your territory to others than the peeing thing. That’s not really my style.’

And if this humiliating moment didn’t just happen, she turns her focus back on the field. August takes a deep breath and actually wants to further explain, however he can’t seem to find the right words. So he looks over to the man, who seems to cut the staring.

◎ ◎ ◎

It’s a fact now: August can’t say no to Mia, he really can’t. After the game, he just wanted to get out of the stadium and go home, but now he finds himself in a fast-food place, finishing up some fries. For someone as dainty as Mia, that girl sure can eat. He is genuinely impressed with her eating that entire burger within ten bites. She has sauce on both corners of her mouth and while he would hate it if it were someone else, he finds it absolutely endearing.

What is this woman doing to his heart? He barely recognizes himself.

‘Anyways,’ Mia says, ‘I really enjoyed the game and I _really_ liked it we had court side tickets. Usually I’m like in the seventh row or even further back or worse: I watch it on tv when they play somewhere else.’ Before he can answer to that, she continues: ‘I also enjoyed your company, even when you were marking your territory.’

‘I wasn’t doing that,’ he huffs.

‘Allow me to poke fun at this,’ she says. ‘August, thank you for keeping me company.’

‘Sure.’

Mia looks at the table, only to frown a second later. ‘Could you be a sweetheart and grab me some napkins, please?’ She holds up her hands. ‘I might need it.’

‘You can leave the might out of the sentence, Mia,’ he says, as he stands up to grab some tissues for her. When he is back at the table again, she already holds out her hands, but he simply grabs one of her wrists, to clean the mess she made.

‘Who are you trying to make jealous now?’ she asks him. ‘Really, if I didn’t know better, I’d almost think we’re on a first date and you are trying to impress me.’

Without thinking he lets go of Mia’s wrists and drops the other napkins on the table. ‘Here you go,’ he says, as his blood is racing to his veins. What the hell is he doing?

‘I didn’t tell you to stop, August,’ she mumbles, when he sits down again. ‘Could you maybe explain something to me?’ She wipes clean her hands and mouth and asks: ‘Why are you like this?’

He scoffs. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Of course you don’t.’ Mia sighs and looks out of the window. She clenches her jaw and she blinks her eyes a little faster. ‘Are you mad at me?’

He is mad, just not mad at Mia. More at himself. However, voicing those thoughts out loud, is something he cannot do. ‘Do we have to talk about our feelings? I barely know you.’

‘Sorry,’ Mia says. ‘You what, never mind. Are you finished?’

August simply nods and the two of them walk out of the noisy place. Mia crosses her arms in front of her and unlike on the way to the stadium, she isn’t talking his ear off and he actually misses hearing her voice.

_Did he just hurt her feelings?_

When they arrive in the hallway, she simply walks over to her own door. She pulls out her keys and finds the right one to unlock the door.

‘Mia,’ August says and she looks up. He has to make this sorta right. ‘I had fun tonight.’

She nods. ‘Glad to hear.’ And with that, Mia steps into her own apartment and closes the door shut, a little harder than she usually does. He walks up to her door and wants to knock on the surface, but he stops.

He hears her sniffles and the meowing of that scary cat. ‘I’m such an idiot,’ Mia says from the other side of the door. ‘Why did I think he would like being around me? He hurt me again, Bobo.’

And with that, his heart shatters apart in a countless pieces.


	5. Chapter 5

That Saturday I had my second to last game and I scored not one, not two, but three goals. Some even said I might’ve set a record for the fastest going goals in the history of female soccer. That might have something to do with me being still so damn mad at August.

I mean, I know I said I was going to accept his hot and cold attitude, since there would be a kind man underneath that harsh exterior, but after being hurt like that, I just figured that I couldn’t accept it anymore. He was harsh and borderline mean to me.

I don’t understand him anymore, but what I do know is that him being like that to me, is probably not going to change. Maybe I’m being a baby and totally overreacting, but I decided that it is best for my own wellbeing if I not talk to him anymore and so far, it’s working. Despite August always being home, I only bumped into him once and that for being next door neighbors.

Yesterday we both stepped into the elevator, but since I know him a bit, I was just sure he wouldn’t start a conversation with me.

I was right. However, I had to go against all my own impulses and you can almost say reflexes to not start a conversation with him.

August told me he doesn’t do apologies, so I shouldn’t be expecting one from him.

When I wake up that Sunday, a day after my game, I’m hit with a painful cold. Normally, Bobo sleeps on top of my blankets, but now he is securely curled up underneath them. Why is it this cold in here? I slip on some thick socks (that feels like two large ice cubs) and rush to my thermostat.

_Only to discover it’s not working?!_

‘Shit, shit, no,’ I whine. I really can’t use that right now. I mean, I can’t ever use it, but right now I really don’t want it. I check the card that hangs next to the thermostat and it informs me I can call the mechanic at nine on a Sunday.

It’s seven now, which is _absolutely_ fantastic.

While my body is slowly freezing up and my nipples are the evidence of the cold temperatures (I’m really happy I’m all by myself now), I go to the bathroom to check if my shower can provide me with some warmish water. I grab the shower head and I wait until the water turns even slightly warm.

It doesn’t.

Great, so even a shower can’t keep me warm. I desperately need a shower, my sore muscles need some relaxation. I turn off the water and I walk to my bedroom. After I put on a bra and some more layers, I jump around, desperately trying to keep myself warm, but it’s useless. It’s what? Minus a billion degrees in here? I’m never gonna warm up, even if I wanted to.

I look over at the wall, the one that separates my apartment from August’s. I could do it, you know. I could just go over there and demand I can stay over at his place. I mean, that’s what he does and considers normal.

I can do that too. I can demand some shelter for a few moments. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

Right?

Nah, it’s not. I’m too damn proud to do such thing.

The two hours go by really slow, but at least I got myself a good work out in, because I was desperately trying to keep warm. and I curled up underneath my blankets, but it was of no use. When I finally can call the mechanic, the shithead on the other line told me he couldn’t come in until three in the afternoon. Six whole hours in this freezing cold? That is something I simply cannot do. I want a hot shower and just chill in my sweats all day. I deserve that after last night’s game.

I grab some clothes, my shampoo and skincare products and pick up Bobo, who feels like a hot water bottle, but is not enough to keep me warm. I close the door of my apartment and with my elbow I knock on August’s door. It takes awhile before he opens the door, but when he does so, he frowns and looks visibly confused.

Probably because I’m holding Bobo and have a big bag with me.

‘What do you want?’

Always the gentleman. I should’ve thought this through, but I think the frostbite has reached my brain before I could do so. ‘I have a problem,’ I say. ‘My heater is broken and the mechanic comes at three.’

He leans against the doorframe. August looks different and I think it’s because of the grey sweatpants. I never really pecked him for a guy who wore something like that, matched with a thick hoodie. ‘Okay?’

Demand shelter, Mia, you can do it. ‘You should give me shelter,’ I say. Okay, that was’t exactly what I was aiming for, but it’s a start. ‘I cannot handle six hours in the freezing cold and I also don’t have hot water, so I can’t shower. Before you ask: ‘Why would I do this?’, remember, I did the same for you and I paid for the court side tickets.’

‘Tickets you bought before you even knew you were going to take me with you,’ he retorts. He sighs deeply. ‘Does the animal has to come as well?’

‘The animal is very sweet,’ I tell him and almost on cue Bobo starts to hiss. ‘Okay, maybe not to you, but please… Just let me stay here for six hours. If you do so, I might forgive you for being a total ass to me last Wednesday.’

‘I wasn’t an ass to you,’ he says, but when I cock my eyebrow, he looks kinda caught. ‘Okay, I maybe was an ass to you sometimes.’

‘All the time,’ I interrupt in.

‘Not the entire time. Just the ending,’ he tells me. ‘Okay, okay, please, come in, Mia and the creepy cat. Make yourself at home.’

At first I’m afraid he is being sarcastic (I mean, we’re talking about August Walker and it didn’t sound like it came from the heart), but when he actually steps aside, I realize he is serious. ‘Thank you,’ I say with a smile and I walk into his pretty boring apartment. I’ll let it slide for now, because he just moved in. I place Bobo on the ground and he struts through the apartment, avoiding August. Being here feels like I’m being wrapped up in a warm blanket.

August walks passed me to the kitchen and I decide to walk after him. ‘Are we going to talk about Wednesday?’ I ask him.

‘No.’

Figured. ‘Come on, August. Just… We should talk about this, to clear the air.’

‘I don’t want to talk.’ He places his hands on the counter and I don’t know where I’ve got the guts from, but I dare to step closer to him.

‘I bet there was a reason why you were like that this Wednesday,’ I continue. ‘You can talk to me, you know?’

‘I don’t want to talk about my feelings, especially not with you,’ he barks out.

Weirdly enough, this doesn’t hurt me, because I think he doesn’t mean it. ‘August,’ I whisper, ‘please. I just want to know why you continue to hurt me, when I’m nothing but nice to you, minus maybe the pedophile comment.

He clenches his jaw. ‘You want coffee?’

Why is he ignoring me? ‘Sure,’ I say, because I can actually use a cup. ‘Can’t you just try to be nice to me, without it being sandwiched in between insults? I’m not forcing you to go skipping with me in a park and make flower crowns with me, while feeding the ducks. I’m just asking you to cut the insulting crap and be nice to me.’

August actually turns his back to me and I let out a sigh. What was I even thinking?

‘I can try.’

Did I just hear that correctly? ‘What?’ I ask. ‘You can try?’

‘I can.’ He pours in some coffee for me and hands me a mug.

‘Thank you,’ I say with a gentle smile. I carefully place my hand on his underarm and he looks up, nearly snapping his neck in the process. ‘I really want to get to know you,’ I say to him in a soft tone. ‘But only if you allow it, okay?’

He nods. ‘Yes, okay,’ he says.

‘You want to get to know me?’ I ask with a chuckle.

‘Weirdly enough: yes.’

I roll my eyes. ‘August.’

‘Wait, wait, wait, I can do better,’ he says. ‘Yes, I want to get to know you too.’ He cocks an eyebrow. ‘Better?’

I laugh. ‘Yes, much better.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Since August’s shower provides me with hot water, I might overdo it by standing underneath the warm water for at least half an hour. Yes, I’m that type of guest. I quickly dry my hair, put on some moisturizer and get dressed, before I walk to the living room.

‘Did you clean up in here?’ I ask August, noticing the place is a whole lot cleaner than it was before I took my shower. ‘Are you trying to impress me, August?’

He scoffs, placing his feet on the coffee table. He looks like a mocking kindergartner, it’s almost endearing.

‘Where is Bobo?’ I ask him, when I sat down next to him and look around.

‘In my bed,’ August answers with a shrug.

That caught me a bit off guard. My cat is in his bed? ‘And you don’t mind?’ I ask. ‘Or are you too afraid to shoo him away?’

He doesn’t want to—I can see it in his eyes—but he smiles. ‘Maybe a bit of both. Besides, he was hissing at me, so I was too afraid to get him off the bed.’

I chuckle. I shiver a bit, as I’m slowly losing the warmth from the shower. August stands up from the couch and wanders through the place. Only to come back with a blanket. He drapes it over me and I’m genuinely surprised. ‘What is this?’ I ask him, though I know exactly what this is.

‘You were cold,’ he says, ‘so I got you a blanket.’

I feel my cheeks heating up. ‘You can be very nice, did you know that?’

August looks at me for a few milliseconds, before he averts his gaze. I realize this may have been too much of a compliment. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘You want to watch some tv?’

‘Sure.’ He grabs the remote and turns on his television.

Was August watching the sports channel?

The _only_ channel that broadcasts the women’s national football league?

‘Did you watch the game last night?’ I ask him.

‘I might’ve,’ he admits, his cheeks a little red. Oh my, my brooding neighbor August Walker is blushing!

‘Next week I have my last game, before the winter break. You want to watch? It’s free and I can arrange a nice spot for you. Special VIP treatment.’

‘Really?’ he asks. ‘Even after I was an absolute asshole to you?’

It’s nice of him to acknowledge that. ‘Even after that.’

‘I would like that.’

 _Are we having a moment now or is this me hallucinating?_ August looks into my eyes and doesn’t turn away. His light orbs are obviously hiding so much and it breaks my heart to think he has been through so much. ‘What are you thinking about?’

August shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’

‘Liar.’

He smiles. It makes him look beautiful, approachable and absolutely breathtaking. ‘I was thinking about giving you a compliment about the game last night and whether or not I should add an insult to it.’

I laugh. ‘Well, you can ditch the insult. I’m not sure if I can take it right now.’

‘You are by far the best player on your team,’ he says. ‘Maybe this is an insult to your teammates, but I think you would be the only female player that could actually beat the best male players.’

I bite my bottom lip, as I feel my stomach twists and turns. ‘That’s really sweet,’ I admit. ‘I bet you don’t want me to give you a hug as a thank you, right?’

August leans back in the couch. ‘Why would you want to hug me?’

That’s not a no, which is an improvement. ‘I barely got hugs when I grew up,’ I say. ‘I don’t know if you are aware of my sob worthy backstory. It’s pretty much all over the internet.’

‘I might’ve looked up some bits, he admits in all honesty, which I appreciate. ‘Lots of foster families.’

I nod. ‘I mean, it was mostly me. The families were nice enough, but I was simply afraid, because I knew that there was a chance I would leave again. What if I attached, you know? Saying goodbye would be harder.’

He nods, almost as if he understands.

‘However, my soccer team was pretty much the same team for years. I grew attached to them and hugs were totally normal. It was a way of communicating, really. Since that moment, I appreciate them. It’s a way to let someone know I appreciate them. If that makes sense.’

August nods again. ‘Back when I grew up, I never got hugs.’

For some reason, I see a young and pouty August in front of my eyes. Desperate for some human contact, only to be deprived by it.

‘I just never was in a setting where hugs were acceptable. Not when I was younger, not now.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize for stuff you had nothing to do with,’ he says and he sounds like the same old August I have come to know. He lets out a deep sigh, one that nearly sounds like a growl. ‘You can give me a hug.’

‘That doesn’t sound very sincere.’

‘I am very sincere,’ he says. ‘I mean it.’

This is adorable, I think to myself. ‘Well, you have to know that once I hug you, you are in it for the real deal. I may or may not hug you every chance I see you.’

August laughs. ‘Then I just have to live with that.’

I push the blankets off of me, before I nearly jump him. I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and while he is slightly awkward, he places his hands on my back and actually _engages_ in the hug. ‘You are very huggable,’ I say.

‘You too.’

I pull my face back, so I can look at him. ‘Remember,’ I say, ‘you can put your walls down around me. I would even really like that, to get to know you.’

August moistens his lips, before he whispers: ‘I would like that as well.’

◎ ◎ ◎

After the mechanic fixed my heater and left, August and I ordered pizza. Now, we sit on my couch and watch some YouTube compilation of me playing soccer. That wasn’t even my idea.

It was August’s idea.

Ever since our hug, I notice he is trying his best to be nice and to me, that’s what matters the most. While I don’t understand his struggle, I do appreciate the effort.

I just shouldn’t be attracted to someone who hurt me twice within a week of knowing me, but I can’t help but feel a little something deep inside of me, when I look at August sitting this relaxed on my couch.

‘You want my crusts?’ I ask him, holding out my plate to him.

‘Of course.’

I can’t help but scoot a little closer to him, so I can hand him the plate a bit better. Maybe it’s because I’m touch starved, maybe it’s because I never had this much male attention (insults or not) before. It’s just really nice being around a man, especially August. I didn’t want to admit it, but I enjoyed every moment of him being overprotective of me in the stadium and how he wiped my hands clean in the restaurant.

That never happened to me before.

‘You want my last piece?’ August asks me, holding up his slice.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask, already taking it out of his hands.

‘Postive.’

Before I take a bite, I say: ‘You can have this crust again, though.’

He smiles. ‘I was hoping for it.’

We eat in silence, staring at the television, but I’m not even paying attention. My mind is full of thoughts about August and the questions I want to ask later on when we get to know one another better. ‘Here is my crust,’ I say.

‘You know, Mia, you eat shockingly fast.’

I scoff. ‘I do not.’

‘You totally do,’ he argues. ‘And you are also the world’s messiest eater. I don’t know how you do it, but you got sauce on your forehead.’ He leans over to my coffee table and grabs some napkins. ‘Sit still, will you.’

‘I am sitting still!’

‘You’re not. You are fidgety.’

I roll my eyes. ‘First I’m a fast eater, then a messy one and I don’t sit still. I was about to offer you some dessert, but now I’m not so sure, since you are being so damn mean to me right now.’

‘I’m not mean to you,’ he says, his voice all of the sudden a lot lower. He places his hand in the back of my neck, before gently cleaning the corners of my mouth and my forehead, letting out a tsk in a process. August is so close right now, I’m nearly going cross eyed. His rough thumb slowly caresses the delicate skin in my neck. I can feel his warm breath against my lips.

‘You want dessert?’ I ask him after I cleared my throat. ‘I have some chocolate pudding. We could eat that.’

August nods. ‘Yeah, I would like that,’ he says, letting me go. ‘Let me help you.’ He stands up as well, holding the plates in his hands. Together we walk to my kitchen and I start preparing the pudding for the both of us.

However, I still feel his hand in my neck. Back when I was in high school in the Netherlands, I was never really in favor of the boys. Besides, I moved a lot and I was pretty much invisible. There was this one time, where it took the teacher almost three weeks to notice me.

Being touched like that, it is a rarity in my dating history. Sure, I’ve had a few kisses, but other than that, I never engaged in anything. Now I’m twenty five and I want it.

_So badly._

I look up, only to discover August was already looking at me. ‘What?’ I ask him.

He shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’

We eat the pudding in silence and when it is eight ‘o clock, he decides to leave. We may barely spoken to one another and when we did, it was pretty shallow, really. But I do feel like I got to know August better and he is willing to open himself up to me.

I walk him to the door and I say: ‘Are you willing to hug me goodbye?’

‘I’ll probably see you tomorrow, Mia,’ he says. ‘It’s not like I’m leaving anytime soon.’ Then he seems to realize what he is missing out on. While he rolls his eyes, I spot a grin on his face and he spreads his arms. ‘Come here.’

I let out an excited squeal and I jump up, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He laughs and wraps one arm around my waist, holding me against him.

‘You happy now?’ he asks.

I pull back my face. ‘Delighted, August Walker.’

He places me back on the ground. ‘See you tomorrow?’

‘You bet. Now you’ve hugged me. let me in your place and allowed Bobo in your bed, I think I’m gonna be over all the time.’

◎ ◎ ◎

The entire Monday morning I spend baking. I want to thank August for yesterday and I figured to see if the saying “nothing says loving like something from the oven” is true. I think it might be. I know I always appreciated when mister Toriello made me a pie.

I walk out of my apartment to knock on his door, only to discover his door is slightly ajar. I push it open and peek inside. ‘August?’ I ask with the steaming pie still in my hands. I walk inside, but he isn’t here. Maybe he is out and didn’t close the door right, however that seems so out of character. Leaving his door open like that… That’s weird.

I place the pie on his kitchen island and find a piece of paper to write something on it.

I place the note next to plate and I want to leave the apartment, but my eyes fall on something. It’s one of those yellowish files, you see in programs like NCIS. I know you shouldn’t peek in other peoples stuff and usually I don’t do such thing.

However I can’t help it right now, as the file is like a magnet that pulls me in.

I pull out the file and it confirms my suspicions. That was my name indeed I saw from afar and this file has my DMV photo attached to it with a paperclip.

Why does August have this? I mean, I don’t even know what he does for a living, but why would he have this? What kind of job would require all this information about me?

Oh my, is he a stalker? I know that’s not a profession, but still…

I open the file and see an entire timeline of my life. The car accident, transcripts of my interviews with specialists, my football career. He is even up to date on my Instagram account… I even see he figured out the name of the man who was gawking at me during the game.

What is this?

‘What are you doing here?’ I hear August’s voice behind me. I look over my shoulder and see him standing in the doorway. He looks tired and a bit sweaty. What has he been doing? ‘What do you have there?’

I turn around, as I hold up the yellow folder. ‘Is there a specific reason you have my entire life compiled in one file?’


	6. Chapter 6

The second Mia asked that question, August feels the color draining from his face. He opens his mouth, closes it and opens it again, but no words emerges from his lips. The only thing he can hear right now, is the loud beating of his own heart and the jammed traffic outside of their apartment building.

‘Mia,’ he finally manages to say, ‘please, allow me to explain this, because I can.’

Though she asked him why he has her entire life compiled in one file, it’s clear she doesn’t want to listen to his explanation. August hasn’t seen her like this before. Now, of course, he barely knows her, but adding the intel on top of the things he learned about her this week, he figured she would listen to him. He thought she would give him an opportunity to explain himself and she’d except it.

However, he totally misjudged Mia. Her eyes scream bloody murder. ‘Are you stalking me?’ she asks him.

That feels like a punch in the gut and then some. ‘What?’ August asks her. ‘No, no, no, of course not.’ He closes the door behind him, a little harder than intended. He sees her jump from the loud bang. August is already on his way over to her, but she starts to shake her head.

‘Stay there,’ she manages to choke out, as she is holding onto the edge of the table for dear life.

It doesn’t sound very convincing, however he stops in his tracks. Instead of bulldozing over her and ignoring her pleads (like he usually would’ve , he sits on the back of the couch. He rubs his thighs with his hands as he grows more and more uncomfortable.

Yesterday she’d sit close to him, wrapping her arms around him when she hugged him goodbye. He wishes he could go back to that specific time. The thing about Mia is that he can let his guard down and while that isn’t something he enjoys to do, with Mia that’s okay.

And he wants to make it right to her or at least explain it to her. 

‘I’m not stalking you,’ he says. August so desperately wants to look at her, to see her beautiful eyes, but the hurt in them is too much for him to handle. She is visibly distraught, because of him and rightfully so. Normally he wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t keep a distance because the other person wants to. Normally he can look anyone in the eye, no matter how they are feeling.

_But everything is different with Mia._

‘I work with the CIA,’ he continues. ‘I was assigned to both protect you and help you remember certain things.’

It stays quiet for too long, so August looks up, only to discover that Mia is actually getting furious. ‘Protection?’ She nearly spits out the word in disgust. ‘I don’t need protection and certainly not from you. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself without you stalking me.’ She slams the file on the table and lets out a frustrated sigh. ‘And I sure don’t need to remember _certain things_.’

He wished she was right. He wished she was his neighbor and that’s all. Not an assignment. ‘You do,’ August whispers, loud enough for her to hear.

‘Which part?’

‘Both,’ he answers. While he really doesn’t want to let her in on this, there is also no point in keeping this a secret from her. Besides, he was the idiot that accidentally didn’t close his door properly when he took out the trash, since his mind was solely focused on Mia and how wonderful she is.

August fucked this up himself, now he needs to fix it.

‘You need to remember something about a safe.’

Mia frowns deeply. ‘A safe? Why?’

‘Because we have reason to believe you are connected to it.’

She starts shaking her head, as she lets out a chuckle of disbelieve. ‘What the fuck is so damn important about that safe?’

‘The safe contains incriminating information that could start wars.’

‘Wars between who?’ she asks.

‘Gangs, cartels, CIA, Interpol, entire countries.’ He shrugs before adding: ‘You name it.’

‘And why do you think I have something to do with that safe? I don’t know anything.’

‘You may not have known about it, but your family did, Mia.’

She scoffs. ‘My family is dead. I thought you new, mister big shot working at the CIA.’

August takes in her clenched jaw, her pursed lips and her eyes that could kill him when she looks up.

‘I’m not gonna use a fucking ouija board to ask them about it. I was too young to know a thing about this.’ The frustration that was building up deep inside her, bursts out as she kicks against the nearest chair. It topples over and when they both stared at it for a while, she adds: ‘And by the way, how are you so sure it’s my family that is linked to the safe?’

‘Check page seventeen of the file,’ August tells her. ‘There are pictures of your family.’

He watches her flip through the pages and judging from her eye motions, her eyes are stuck on one in particular. The one of a man, a woman, three boys and a little girl. One entire family.

‘This could be anyone,’ Mia retorts.

‘It’s your family,’ he simply says. ‘Check the other pictures.’

Since he has that file engraved in his memory, he knows exactly what picture is taking up her attention. The pixelated one of both a man and a woman. This family’s identity is probably one of the best kept secrets in the world. While it’s not much, the pictures do give an indication. Even with the pixels as large as her fist, no one has to be a genius to notice the resemblances of the woman and Mia.

She turns the page and her eyes enlarge, when they land on the final picture. The age progression picture. Of course it’s only an idea of what the young girl looks like now and with the limited information they had on this family, also known as the _Safe-_ family, it’s not a match for the full hundred percent. However, tons of characteristics do match with Mia.

‘Six months ago,’ he says, ‘someone took the time to do an age progression picture of the entire family. We ran it through multiple databases and no one was a match. Except you. We didn’t put the pieces of the puzzle together directly, but someone in the office recognized you in it.’

August knows she is looking at the other age progression pictures, of her parents and her brothers.

‘When we put your timeline next to the timeline of your family, also known as the _Safe_ -family… It matched. They weren’t active anymore, since the car accident. Since this all happened in the Netherlands, the CIA wasn’t informed.’

Mia shakes her head. ‘I don’t even know what they looked like,’ she says and he notices her softening up. Sure, there is a chance she is still mad at him, but hearing this vulnerability in her voice… That is what breaks his heart. ‘Even if these people were my family,’ she says, ‘shouldn’t I remember something?’

‘Stuff like that takes time, Mia.’

When she looks up, he notices all the anger she harbored, dissolved. ‘Do you know their names?’

August shakes his head.

‘Does that mean there is possibility my name is not Mia Makaruku?’

‘There is chance, yes.’

Tears build up in her eyes. ‘I can’t help you with this.’ She places the file back on the table and lets her fingers run through her locks. ‘I don’t know anything about these people nor about that safe. Whatever the CIA thinks they know, they’re wrong.’

‘Except, it’s true,’ he says. ‘It’s not just the CIA who is figuring this out. If they can figure it out, other people can too and that is why I’m here. The other ones, they don’t want what’s best for you.’

‘But the CIA does?’

No, the CIA doesn’t care about her, just the information she can provide. ‘No,’ he says to her in all honesty, ‘but I do.’

She shakes her head. ‘I thought you were a CIA agent, not some shrink. I went to multiple specialists for years and they couldn’t help me remember. What on earth gave you the impression that you are some sort of special snowflake, thinking you can help me remember?’

August takes a deep breath. ‘Because I know what I’m looking for.’

Her eyes enlarge with realization. ‘You weren’t trying to be my friend,’ she concludes. ‘You just wanted to get inside my head.’

 _No, shit, no. This isn’t good_. He rises to his feet and approaches her, as he says: ‘I’m your friend, Mia.’ When he notices her shoulders tense up, he stops at a respectable distance from her, because the last thing he needs right now, is her turning him away. She is letting her guard down, but he should not force himself up to her. ‘I meant everything I said to you. I want to be more open to you, I want to hug you and I want to get to know you. That was all true and still is. I just need to protect you. The other people who know this, they don’t want what’s best for you. They just want the information and they’ll go through all sorts of lengths to get that information.’

August senses remainder of her anger flowing away and he decides to take his chances.

He walks up to her and when he is close enough, he carefully places his hands on her shaking shoulders. She isn’t pushing him away nor tensing up. ‘Nothing is going to change about us,’ he says. ‘We keep on being friends and I’ll just make sure no one can hurt you.’

Mia shakes her head. ‘It doesn’t work that way, August,’ she whispers. ‘You lied about your intentions and I don’t even know if anything you just told me is true. What I do know is that I can’t help you or the CIA. I want you to move out of here and leave me alone. Call your boss and tell them you are quitting. I don’t know anything about this, my family is not related to that safe and I don’t want to look at you ever again.’

August sighs. ‘We can’t do that.’

She pushes him away with a surprising amount of strength. ‘All of this isn’t true,’ she tells him. ‘Those people in the file, could be everyone. I am Mia Makaruku and no pictures and _intel_ can change that.’

He is losing her. ‘I am your best shot, Mia,’ he softly continues. ‘Let me just explain everything I know to you. It’ll become more clear and you will realize I’m the only one who can help you.’

‘Drop dead, August,’ she growls. ‘I don’t want to talk to you ever again.’

Mia storms out of his apartment and the door slams shut behind her. August wanders through his apartment, hoping to clear his mind on this. All of his coherent thoughts are clouded however as soon as he sees the mug Mia insisted on drinking her water in. She even went back to her own apartment when her heater broke, to grab it. August still remembers her beautiful smile when she walked back in. ‘I’m leaving this here,’ she said, ‘because I want to drink from something less clinical than the glasses and mugs you have.’

The pink mug with lots of flowers on it. Tiny roses, colorful tulips. Something he would never look at. Something he wants to cherish forever now.

August notices the warm pie on his kitchen island, with a note. As he reads it, he clenches his jaw. He fucked up so badly, simply because he was careless. Mia wasn’t supposed to know about this. At least not yet.

Erika would be embarrassed if she found out about this debacle and he would be fired on the spot. That is the last thing he needs, because if he is fired, that means someone else is assigned to this. Worse, the CIA brings her to one of the safe houses _without_ him and he knows no one will and can take as good care of her as he does.

Despite her being against him, wanting him gone, he is not that easily scared away.

◎ ◎ ◎

Mia was a wreck to say the least during her practice and Coach Riley noticed it too, hence the reason she is the last person to leave the center today. It pains August to see her like this. He can’t believe he is going to say this, but he feels for her. Seeing her missing goals she easily could’ve made, her limping again since she obviously misstepped and the fact she barely touched the ball.

All because he was a careless idiot.

He sits in his car, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, scanning the parking lot. He finally notices her and he sits up a bit straighter. It’s obvious she is in a lot of pain, her steps carefully calculated. It takes him all of his willpower to not get out of his car, so he can lift her up and carry her to his car.

She unlocks her car and throws her bag into the trunk. From the way she closes it with a force he can see from where he is standing, tells him she is very much upset still.

_All because of him._

While she walks to the side of her car, fumbling her set of keys, he sees _him_. The creep from the game who couldn’t stop looking at her. He doesn’t even think about it for a quarter second as he gets out of his own car.

He knew it, he fucking knew it. He slams the door shut behind him, sprinting towards the creep and Mia. ‘Let me go,’ he hears her say, but her tone is hoarse, as the man’s arm is choking her.

Mia places her feet on the surface of her own car and pushes herself back. They fall on the concrete and it gives her some leverage to wiggle herself out of his arms. The man gets up however and while she is crawling away, she has her back turned to him. Before he can touch her, August runs into him. The impact leaves a big dent in her car, however it didn’t knock him out, but a fist against his temple does it.

Mia is sniffling, her hand in front of her mouth. ‘What are you doing?’ she asks. ‘August, what is happening? What the fuck are you doing here? This is borderline stalking.’

‘Not stalking you,’ he says as he crouches down in front of her. ‘I’m just protecting you.’

A nearly painful sob leaves her lips, as she holds her ankle. ‘I don’t need protection,’ she whimpers.

August wished that was true. August wished that she didn’t need him, but he hates to break it to her. He hates taking _her_ independence away from her.You need me,’ he says, ‘whether you like it or not.’

‘Don’t give yourself too much credit,’ she mutters, but he sees her walls crumble at the same time. ‘My ankle hurts.’

‘I know,’ he says. ‘You stood up to yourself. That was good.’ _I’m proud of you._

The words however don’t leave his lips. That compliment stays in his heart.

She holds out her hand to him and he carefully takes it in his. ‘What is it, Mia?’

‘I’m scared,’ she whispers. ‘August, I don’t know what is happening. Who was that? Why am I being targeted? How do they know? Who am I? When is this ever going to stop?’

He wishes he had the answers, but he simply doesn’t. Mia is crying and he does what he thinks would calm her down. ‘Come here,’ he whispers, as he pulls her to his body. She buries her face in his neck, melting against his frame. Mia is shaking with fear.

While he holds her close, he keeps on thinking about the things they need to do. And there is quite a lot.

‘Listen to me, Mia,’ he says, cradling her face. Through her tears, she looks at him. ‘I need you to do something for me.’

‘And what’s that?’

August swallows hard. ‘We need to get rid of him and get you home.’ He pulls the knife from his back pocket and leans over to her front tire, slashing it. ‘When Harold for example asks why we’re together when we go back home, you ask him your tire was slashed and I picked you up. Now go grab your bag, okay?’

She nods and he pulls her up. She limps back to the car and grabs her sports bag out of the trunk.

‘Is there anything important in your car you need?’

‘No.’

August yanks out his belt and ties the hands of the man, before pulling the dead weight up. He is still alive, that’s for sure, but severely unconscious. He throws the keys to her and she catches it. ‘That car over there.’

He holds out his arm for her to take and she complies, leaning her weight on him. ‘Open the trunk for me, will you?’

August drops the man into the trunk. He expected Mia to get in the car, but she just stands there, staring at the car.

‘Listen, Mia,’ he says to her. ‘I know you’re scared.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she whimpers.

‘No, no, don’t do that shit,’ he tells her. ‘I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. You get in the car, we dump this man and then we get home. We’ll pack our things and then we go.’

‘I don’t want to go,’ she whispers. ‘I want to stay here.’

‘Listen, listen, listen.’ He holds her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her wet and hot cheeks. ‘We can’t stay, we’ve gotta leave. Now get in the car, Mia. I’ll be right there.’

He watches her get in the car, before he walks to the trunk. The man is still unconscious and August does what he does. It takes him less than a second to snap his neck and search his pockets, but the man isn’t wearing anything or has something with him significant.

He grabs his own phone out of his back pocket and dials Erika’s number as he closes the trunk.

‘Sloane.’

‘Word’s out,’ he says.

The fact she is not responding, means she’s thinking. Erika Sloane has been his boss for quite some time now, so he knows her ways. ‘Okay. What do you got?’

‘Man in the trunk, safe house three hours away.’

‘I’ll send you a location. I want you there now.’

‘On my way.’

When August hangs up the phone, he takes a seat next to Mia, who is staring out of the window. She must sense he is looking at her, since she her gaze from outside. ‘I hate you,’ she whispers.

It stings and maybe hurts a little, but he understands. ‘That’s okay,’ he says. ‘You can hate.’

◎ ◎ ◎

After August swapped cars with one of his colleagues, he drove the two of them back to their apartment building. He had to explain to Harold how not only her tire was slashed, but how she was also injured.

Mia on the other hand, was also totally out of it and still is. It’s just too much for her to handle.

He hoists the small woman on his kitchen counter and Mia finally stops crying. Not much haunts August at night, but those painful, gut wrenching sobs might. ‘What are you doing? Why did we swap cars?’

‘I’m gonna patch you up, Mia.’

‘Why?’

‘Because we are going away. That’s why I swapped cars, so we won’t be followed and my colleague is gonna get rid of the body.’

She looks like she’s seen a ghost. ‘What? Body? Did you kill him?’

He decides not to answer that.

Mia shakes her head. ‘We can’t run off. I have a game this Saturday.’

‘I know, but you can’t play. You are in danger and you need to get out of here. If you stay here, you might not survive.’

‘I thought you were here to protect me.’

She has a point. ‘But I can’t be with you in the locker room, VIP tickets or not. I have a safe house not too far from here and that is where we are going. Tomorrow you call your coach and tell her you are going to take a break.’

‘August,’ Mia says, shaking her head, ‘stop it, please.’

He doesn’t. ‘If you don’t come with me, you’ll die.’

‘I have a life here.’

August decides not to respond to her pleads anymore. He carefully takes of her shoe and sock, to check her ankle. ‘Looks like it hurts.’

‘Stop pretending you care about me.’

She has said a lot of things that stung, but this deeply offends him. He slams his hand on the kitchen counter, next to her thigh. Mia tenses up. ‘For fuck’s sake, I do care about you, Mia,’ he says in a louder tone.

Her bottom lip starts to tremble again and tears trickle over her cheeks. ‘I don’t want this life,’ she cries. ‘I just want to be a soccer player again.’

He places his hands on the side of her head, pulling her closer, until her forehead is resting on his chest. ‘If you come with me, I can guarantee I’ll keep you safe.’

‘You’re asking me to leave my life behind,’ she cries. Her fingers pull on his shirt and he looks down, to see her knuckles turn lighter from the clenching of her fists.

‘I know,’ he whispers. ‘But after I checked your ankle, we are leaving.’

‘I can’t argue this?’

‘Afraid not.’

She looks up, her eyes red from crying. ‘I’ll go with you, but only on one condition.’

She’s going with him no matter what, but he decides to keep quiet. ‘And that entails what?’

‘That Bobo comes with us too.’

◎ ◎ ◎

That scary disgusting orange cat that left an entire patch of fur on his bed, meows from the backseat. August watched a teary Mia leave her apartment behind, with all the stuff she needs and the carriage with Bobo. He had to walk back two times to make sure all the stuff the ball of fur needs. From the looks of it, it seems like Mia is bringing more stuff with her for her cat than for herself.

He sits next to her, as they have started their three hour drive. It’s dark and the crying has worn Mia out.

‘Mia, I understand you are mad at me, but I’m doing this for you.’

‘I know,’ she sighs out. Ever since he had to explain himself, he sees the rollercoaster of emotions Mia has been on. She is mad, afraid and fragile, all at once and she does not know how to deal with that. Everything she taught herself, is all worthless compared to what she has to face now.

Mia places her hand on his and he turns his, so their palms are touching. Their fingers intertwined. ‘I’m scared,’ she whispers. ‘I’m in pain.’

‘I know.’

‘My life is over.’

He bites his bottom lip. He didn’t want to tell her that the chances of her being a soccer player… That those days are over. Thankfully she brought it up herself. ‘I know.’

‘What do I do?’

‘Just stay close,’ August says. ‘I called my supervisor again and if we have to, we can use our passports to go somewhere else if we have to, but right now, we need to lay low for a while. The word is out about you and it’s only confirmed after this.’

‘What about the people I care about?’

‘CIA put protection at the apartment building for Harold and near your training center and the houses of your team and coach.’

There are the tears again. The only thing he can do, is squeeze in her hand.

‘August, what is gonna happen?’

‘You and I are gonna stay in the safe house,’ he tells her. ‘I’ll tell you everything I know and we’ll see whether or not you remember something.’

‘But what if I don’t?’ she asks. ‘The CIA also wants to content of the safe. Will they kill me too if I don’t know?’

That is of course a plausible thought and he actually admires her for thinking like that, because he was worried her mind was clouded and she couldn’t think straight anymore. ‘They won’t,’ he says, ‘and even if they plan on doing so, you think I let that happen?’

Mia doesn’t answer. She turns to the side and places her forehead against his shoulder. ‘I just want to play soccer,’ she murmurs.

‘I know you do,’ he says.

‘And while you did lie to me, I feel like you are the only one I can trust.’

‘You can,’ he says, desperately needed her to know that he can be trusted, though his lying tells her otherwise. ‘Grab the file out of the bag from the backseat.’

Mia lets him go so she can turn around and grab the file. ‘What page?’

‘Just start at the beginning.’

‘Why?’

‘Because… I want you to read it. You deserve to know.’

She opens the file, but closes it not long after, causes him to frown a bit. ‘I don’t want to read it,’ she says, placing it near her feet. ‘At least not yet.’ She wraps her arm around his thick one. ‘I want you to tell me about it.’

‘Why?’

‘You dragged me out of my life. I deserve to know what this is about. From you.’

August sighs, realizing she is right. ‘Fair.’

Normally he’d feel suffocated when someone was this close to him and he’d demand his own space, but feeling Mia so close… It reminds him of Sunday. It’s like they are taking a road trip now.

He tells her about the myth surrounding the safe. How the people who knew most about it are linked to her, thus being her family. The alleged information about multiple organizations in the world, illegal and legal. The crime scene of the car accident, the unknown woman who called it in.

‘Okay,’ she whisper, ‘just a thought. If the woman who called it in, did have something to do with the disappearance of my family, why didn’t she kill me? Or took me with them?’

Mia’s asking the right questions here and he wished he knew the answer, but he doesn’t. ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry, but I don’t.’

‘Are you gonna find out about it?’

It’s really quiet on the road, so he can look to the side, seeing Mia placed her chin on his arm. Their eyes meet and despite the tears, she doesn’t seem as panickedor angry as she was. She just seems upset and of course, that hurts him a lot.

‘ _We_ are gonna find out about it, Mia,’ he whispers, ‘I promise.’


	7. Chapter 7

## 1 hour at the safe house

After the three hour drive, August and I arrive at this safe house. It’s the middle of the night and normally I’m in a deep and nice sleep, spooning Bobo and dreaming about some sort of male celebrity to ease my mind. That is not the case now, despite my brain being dog tired, but it’s also running over time.

The safe house is like every ordinary house, but maybe that is exactly what we need. We need to fit in with the rest of the world, not sticking out like sore thumbs.

Bobo is already acclimated to the place, curling himself up on the sofa, purring loudly as he is about to drift off to sleep.

Me on the other hand, can’t relax for shit. I’m pacing (no, not pacing, limping) through the living room, desperately hoping to remember something. It doesn’t matter what. Maybe something about my family, something that is a dead give away I’m not part of this weird family who had access to the safe. Maybe something about what happened between the crash and me sitting on the curb, holding my arm as I was waiting for help.

Or something that would get me out of this place.

August was my safe haven for the drive here, but I don’t know what to think of him. Do I believe him when he says he’ll protect me? Yes, especially what happened to me on the parking lot.

Do I trust him?

I have no idea…

Is he soft and kind to me?

Yes.

And is that everything I need for now?

I hate to admit it, but yes…

I let out a deep sigh. While I keep on wishing I need to be with someone who I feel safe with, it’s brutally obvious that… August is the only one who can both protect me and make me feel safe. I think about his strong arms wrapped around my body, my forehead resting against his chest and him allowing me to hold his hand. I know that’s not what he wants, or at least, what he would initiate, but he lets me. He lets me hold him, lean on him and cry on him.

And that sure means something right? He understands and gives in to my needs.

I turn on my foot, but since my brain is nearly frying itself, I forget this one hurts. I wince and sit on the floor, holding my ankle tightly. Tears trickle down my cheeks, without me actually crying.

I just want to go home, to my own psychical therapist who could help me out. I need normalcy _back_ in my life. 

‘What are you doing?’

My head jerks up, to discover August standing near the kitchen, leaning against the wall. The softness I felt during the way here, it disappeared. Maybe because I wasn’t responding well to it, or because I was responding to it a bit too much. I have been a snotty and hopeless mess since early Monday morning, when I found out about the file.

‘I was pacing.’

He walks into the living room and stops in front of me. ‘You need to be careful.’

‘Well spotted. I can see the CIA training taught you well.’

August sighs. ‘I think you need a new gauge on it.’ He holds out his hand and with a groan I take it. He pulls me up, but when I’m standing, his arm glides underneath my knees and back, carrying me to the kitchen. He does it so effortlessly and without a thought. Maybe that softness is still there. Maybe he does care. He places me on the counter and takes off my shoe.

‘That hurts,’ I hisses.

‘I know,’ he says. He opens a few cabinets, but doesn’t see what he was looking for. ‘Wait here.’

He wanders out of the kitchen and comes back with my mug. The one with the flowers. The one I left at his place. He fills it with water and holds it in front of me, together with a strip of painkillers. ‘Did you bring this with you?’ I ask him, as I wrap my fingers around the mug.

He nods.

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s home and I figured you could need it.’ He ushers me to take the painkiller and I do what he asks me to do. I lean back, with my head against the cabinet doors. He grabs a dusty barstool and places my foot on his lap.

‘August,’ I whisper.

‘Yes?’

‘I don’t hate you.’

He looks up. ‘I know.’

‘I’m just scared.’

‘I know that too.’ He takes off my sock and bandage and checks my ankle, that is swelling and turning red. ‘I think I need to provide you with a brace. Or do you have one with you?’

I shake my head. ‘I left it at home, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize,’ he snaps and I tense up. Just because he isn’t apologizing, he all of the sudden has this personal vendetta against me doing it. ‘I’ll try and arrange something. For now a new bandage will do.’

While he prepares the new bandages, I carefully place my hand on his cheek as I lean forward. He lets it happen and maybe I’m totally hallucinating, but I think he is leaning against my hand. ‘You sure you’ll protect me?’

‘I will,’ he answers in a dead serious tone.

‘Even Bobo?’

August looks up and bites back a smile. ‘Especially Bobo.’

## 5 hours at the safe house

I’m back at the crime scene, but this time I’m not a young girl anymore. I’m the me of today. I walk around the car wreck, spotting the limb bodies of other me’s family. I notice a young girl sitting on the curb. _Me on the curb._ Clutching my arm and simply staring at the wreck, as someone without a recognizable face drags away the body of a teenage boy, while another man drags away the body of a man.

They look deceased, but as of right now, they could be unconscious.

A woman, who is just as unidentifiable as the other men, crouches down in front of me. _‘Vanaf nu, is jouw naam Mia_ ,’ she tells me. From now on, your name is Mia.

The young girl—me—shakes her head. ‘ _Nee, dat ben ik niet._ ’ No, I’m not.

‘ _Jawel, luister goed. Als iemand er naar vraag, jij heet Mia. Mia Makaruku. M-A-K-A-R-U-K-U_.’ Yes, listen carefully. If someone asks, you’re Mia. Mia Makaruku. M-A-K-A-R-U-K-U.’

With a jolt I’m wide awake. I look around me, expecting to find Bobo for some emotional support, but he is not here. I could use a hug, to be honest and Bobo is the one that I wished was right here to hug me. I slip on some warm socks and get out of my bed. No, the bed in the safe house. It’s not mine. It smells musty. My bed always smells like lavender.

‘Bobo,’ I whisper shout, ‘where are you?’

I see August’s door is opened ajar and I peek inside, only to see Bobo curled up on the windowsill, while August isn’t asleep. He looks up and flicks on his light. ‘What’s wrong?’

I want to make a stupid remark about Bobo sleeping here and how they are becoming close buddies and how it should make me jealous, but it can’t seem to leave my lips. I simply lean against the doorframe and fumble with my shirt.

‘Mia, what’s up?’

‘I had a memory,’ I whisper, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. I close the door and I walk over to his bed. I sit on the edge, staring at Bobo, who is still asleep and doesn’t really care I walked in. Looks like I’m traded in for. Nice to know that my lovely cat will trade me for someone with testosterone. ‘My name is not Mia Makaruku.’ I tell him what the memory is about. I don’t feel tears coming up, but to be fair, I have cried for hours on end.

August sits up straight next to be on the edge. ‘You know what your real name is?’

I shake my head. ‘That was all I wanted to tell you.’ I want to stand up again, but August grabs my wrist and forces me on his bed again. ‘What?’

‘I know it’s hard.’

‘How?’ I ask him. ‘Because this all happened to you when you were younger? Did you have a promising career, that was put on hold because someone swooped into your life and all of the sudden you realize you are not who you think you are?’

He doesn’t say anything, but I simply pull my wrist out of his grasp, grab Bobo and march back into my room.

## 1 day at the safe house

I came to the conclusion that in no way, I can stay here in this safe house.

August is keeping a close eye on me and I have to tell him what I’m going to do _every single time_ I leave the room. Even when I just need to pee! This whole situation is suffocating me. I wished he would just be a bit more relaxed, less controlling and just back the fuck off.

Ever since I had my first memory, I have been thinking about it, nearly giving myself a painful headache. But I don’t remember anything.

When I was wandering through the house, I confiscated a letter opener, to use it as some sort of weapon. Who knows if I might need it one day. And that _one day_ might come sooner than I think.

I’m sitting in the living room, as the blinds are closed, leaving us with the lights on, in the middle of the day. I can barely sit anymore, so I walk towards a wall and do a handstand against it. I hear some bones in my shoulders crack.

For a top athlete, going from intense training to nothing, it’s unhealthy. I read about those people who get heart attacks after they retire and get a heart attack within the first week of doing nothing, after a very intensive job for forty years.

While I’m not suspecting a heart attack anytime soon and I shouldn’t compare this situation to retirement, I’m keeping it in mind.

Is it your left arm that starts to hurt when you have a nearing heart attack?

‘What are you doing?’

I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t see that. ‘I would swear you’re blind,’ I say, as I get back on my feet. ‘I was bowling, you happy now?’

August doesn’t say anything. He simply walks over to the couch and sits on my spot. Man spreading is tame in comparison with what he is doing. I think it’s a good thing this man wears pants, because I could’ve looked right up his ass and do an internal examination, without trying.

That’s quite the picture, Mia… What are you doing to yourself?

I turn around and let out a gasp when the doorbell rings three times very short. August stands up and ushers me to come over. I don’t understand why, but he looks pissed and I better listen to him. I limp towards him and he pushes me behind him. When he opens the door, he simply takes the package after signing for it and closes the door. ‘What was that about?’

‘Better be safe than sorry.’ He opens the package without using scissors (which is weird, because I would’ve needed a scissor or a knife to open it, but to each their own) and hands me my new ankle brace.

‘Oh,’ I say, when I see he actually arranged a real good one. Maybe he cares in his weird way… ‘Thanks.’

He doesn’t say anything about it. ‘I’ll start lunch.’

## 3 days at the safe house

It has been two days since I found the letter opener and I don’t think he suspects a thing. The hours pass by without a mishap. I let him check my ankle twice a day, I try to get him to like Bobo (no success so far and that’s all on August) and we watch the stars every night, since that’s the only time he lets me out of the house.

Pretending I made peace with the situation, gave me enough opportunities to plan my escape. Even when he made me a hot water bottle the other night because I was shivering, even when he suggested to cut the onions, so I wouldn’t get teary eyed and that time when he carried me to bed.

Even when he makes me feel like no one else made me before, I cannot stay here. I have read the files, I have seen where he hides our passports, I know where he hides his guns. I can escape.

Especially now, since I don’t want him near me anymore.

The only way I can actually lock him up, is by luring him into the basement and that sounds painfully scary, I admit, but I have to try. I’d rather die trying, than give up and sit here like I’ve given up on life.

I have to leave him.

Everything is all set and done in my bedroom, ready for me to leave. If I can’t hide it in my room (the car keys, the file or the passports and of course his guns) I know exactly where to find it.

I’m standing in some tight black leggings and a cropped sweater in the basement, trying to find something on the top shelve I could desperately need and I can’t reach. Pasta sauce? That seems like something I could use.

I have made some food in these past couple of days and I have yet to make some pasta. It sounds like me to try something new.

Normally I wouldn’t wear something that accentuates my ass this much, but I have to distract him some way, so maybe this’ll do. I don’t know, I have never done this before. Sure, I’ve kissed, but never anything further than that. Being a professional athlete, you barely have time to date.

Or that’s just me, I don’t know. Other girls seemed to find time to date…

My heart is pounding painfully fast in my chest. You can say about August Walker whatever you want, but that man looks terrifyingly experienced. He seems like the type of man who can rip you apart and you’d beg him to do so again.

It’s now or never, Mia.

‘August!’ I yell.

It takes a second before he answers. ‘Yes?’

‘Can you help me out?’

Asking him for something, is the way to his heart.

I hear his descending footsteps and I turn around, to see him approaching me. ‘Can you reach the pasta sauce for me?’ I ask. ‘I wanted to make pasta tonight.’

August simply nods and stretches himself to grab the package from the top shelf. ‘Anything else?’

I bite my lip, before shaking my head.

‘There is something on your mind,’ he says. ‘What is it?’

This man reads me like a book. I hate it. ‘Nothing, it’s silly, really.’ That and I might chicken out right now. Maybe this isn’t such a fantastic well thought out plan, though I thought about it non stop for the past forty eight hours.

But, am I seeing this correctly? Is he smiling? ‘Tell me this then: why are you wearing this?’

Oh shit, he is too good. Fuck, I just blew my cover, simply because it’s too much. ‘What?’

August places his large hand in the dip of my waist, his fingers touching my bare skin. ‘You never wear this.’

I clear my throat. Now is not a good time for that heart attack you were thinking about a two days ago, I tell myself. ‘Oh, I…’

‘Come on,’ he whispers, ‘you can tell me.’

I swallow hard, all of the sudden not so sure about this anymore. I shouldn’t let him intimidate me, but it sure does. It might have to do with this authoritarian lining I hear in his deep voice.

‘Tell me,’ he says, ‘did you plan this?’

I finally find my voice again, yet it’s not a very secure one. ‘Maybe,’ I whisper shakily.

‘Why?’

‘It’s you, really,’ I say and that is not a total lie. I mean, I have seen him pretty up close these passed few days. And since I’m a functioning human being with a heart beat and certain—slightly nasty—dreams about him… It seems reasonable to be planning this, right?

August nods, before lifting me on the empty table I wished in my initial plan he would place me. ‘If I start, Mia, I don’t think I can stop.’

‘I don’t want you to stop,’ I whimper, already completely at his mercy.

_I curse myself._

He chuckles and bites his bottom lip, his eyes turning a few shades darker. He takes off his shirt, revealing his strong and broad chest, covered with chest hair that I only saw glimpses of.

Am I sure I can do this? Am I sure I can do what I plan to do?

‘What?’ I ask him.

‘You look like a deer caught in the headlights, Mia.’

‘Oh,’ I gasp, which is a dead giveaway that I am indeed a deer caught in the headlights.

His strong hands force my legs open. ‘It’s a good thing I sometimes find you adorable.’

Now I’m actually offended. ‘Why only sometimes?’

He smiles. ‘Maybe always.’

I shouldn’t do this, I think to myself. I feel sorry for him now, he looks so approachable and finally he shows me who he is deep down. The August Walker that I knew was in there, hidden by the walls he has built. The August Walker I saw glimpses of since the day I met him. Okay, maybe not since the day I met him, but since we went to that basketball game.

I place my hands on his broad chest and let my nails drag over his skin. August bridges the space between us and the second our lips touch and his tongue enters my mouth, I hook my feet together behind his hips.

The way this man kisses… I have never been kissed like this. Never have I ever been so overpowered, so dominated.

I’m getting too sucked into this moment, that for a second I forget my plan. He buries his face in my neck, his tongue running over the delicate skin. I bite my lip to keep my moans in, but somehow one escapes.

‘Such a needy little girl,’ he grunts in my nape, before going out of his way to leave his marks on me.

When he kisses my lips again, he seems distracted enough, I think to myself. My hand goes underneath the edge of the table, where I taped the letter opener…

But I can’t find it.

‘You were looking for this?’ he asks when he pulls back. His fingers twirl the letter opener around.

Oh fuck, I screwed up big time.

‘I admire you thought about this,’ he says, ‘but I’m not a total idiot.’ He lets the sharp tip drag over my cheek, causing me to pull back.

‘You knew?’

‘Of course I knew,’ he chuckles. ‘I’m a CIA agent, I notice everything you do. I’m trained to do such thing.’ He pulls back completely and I let out a groan. While he puts the letter opener in the back pocket of his pants, he grabs his shirt from the floor. ‘Shame, Mia, that I can read you like a book, but yet again… I appreciate the effort.’

He turns around with a cocky grin and I clench my jaw. What an asshole. I look around me and see a block of wood next to the table. I jump off the table, grab the wood and rush towards him. I am not giving up, because if I did so, I wouldn’t have become the soccer player I am today.

I was, I mean, because I’ve come to the realization those soccer playing times might be over.

August must’ve heard me (he is a CIA agent after all), but I’m mid swing already and the edge of the block hits him on his temple. I watch as the enormous man falls like a bag of potatoes and I stare at his limp body on the floor.

Did I just kill him?

Before I jump over him to go up the stairs, I quickly check his pulse in his neck. Okay, there is a heartbeat. I climb up the stairs and lock the door.

It’s game time.

I rush to my room, grab my coat and the carriage for Bobo. I figured I would bring him to a shelter, before I would get on the plane, because I’m not leaving my precious orange cat in a safe house with August Walker.

Within record time I have got my bag ready, the file and I grabbed the fake Indonesian passport I need. ‘Come on, Bobo,’ I try to coax him and the dumb ass actually goes into the cage.

‘Mia, don’t fucking do this,’ I hear August yell, as he is trying to force the door open.

Okay, it’s quite a relief to know he really wasn’t dead.

I grab the car keys and when I walk passed his room, my eyes fall on his weapon holster. The one last thing I need. I grab his gun and though I have zero idea on how to use it, I can just do what they do in movies.

Just pull the trigger, right?

I grab the carriage with Bobo, only to hear August breaking out from the basement. The door collapses in front of me and I see his eyes are dark, but not filled with lust like they were a few moments ago.

_Filled with absolute rage._

‘Don’t even fucking think about it,’ he growls.

Before I even think, I grab the gun out of the bag and point it to him. My hands are shaking. ‘Let me go,’ I say.

‘Mia, I can’t let you go.’

‘I don’t want the CIA to help me,’ I tell him, as tears run over my cheeks. Way to make your point, Mia. ‘I just want my normal life back.’

‘You can’t and you know that.’

I do know that. ‘I want to find answers on my own,’ I continue, ‘and on my own, doesn’t involve you. I hate you, August Walker, I fucking hate you.’

I can see it in his eyes, that he tells himself that it’s not true and it’s not true. I don’t hate him, I just need to get out of here. He clenches his jaw. ‘Give me the gun, Mia.’

I shake my head. ‘No. Step aside or I’ll shoot.’

Even I’m not convinced…

August walks up to me and places his hand on the barrel, pulling the gun against his chest. ‘Do it then.’

My finger is on the trigger, but… I’m too weak to shoot him. I hand him the gun, before hiding my face into my hands. I lean with my back against the wall. This is so embarrassing. Why on earth did I think I could escape?

I hear August opening the door of the carriage, followed by the soft steps of Bobo.

‘Talk to me, Mia,’ he says, causing me to look up. When our eyes meet, he isn’t mad. He looks so disappointed. but I’m not sure if he’s disappointed in me or himself for letting this happen.

I take a deep breath. I don’t know what to say about this situation. ‘How is your head?’ I ask him, noticing some blood running over the side of his face.

‘It’s okay.’

I simply take his hand and drag him with me to the kitchen. He sits on a lower stool, so I can actually reach his face, without having to wear pointe shoes. I see a small cut on his temple, the source of the stream of blood and I grab the kit he used on me so many times. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say in a soft tone. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’

‘Don’t apologize.’

‘But I have to, August. I hurt you.’ I clean the wound, before grabbing the special bandages to pull wounds like this back together.

He sighs deeply. ‘You did what you thought was best. I can’t argue with that.’ His tone is low, raspy, but also soft.

He doesn’t sound angry at all, while I expect him to be. I mean, I kinda wanted to stab him.

‘It’s just that I… I just want to get out of here.’

August nods. ‘I know that and we will go. Eventually.’ When our eyes meet again, I see the hurt. Fuck, I hurt him so badly. Guilt washes over me and there are a million things I could say to him. But he doesn’t let me. ‘Don’t beat yourself up over this.’

He can indeed read me like a fucking book and I should hate that. But I’m actually quite relieved as of now.

‘I’m not beating myself up.’

‘You are.’

I push back some of his hairs, my fingertips running over his scalp. He melts against the touch and shuts his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

‘I won’t escape anymore,’ I whisper.

‘I know.’

‘It’s… I don’t know what possessed me. I mean… I hit you in the head quite hard.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you worry about it. Besides, I’m actually pretty relieved. I now know you can defend yourself properly.’

‘Properly?’ I can’t help but chuckle and I see a tiny smile form on his lips. ‘Don’t over exaggerate. August, I just… I feel so useless here. I don’t remember a lot of stuff. I just sit here and wait. I haven’t done that in a long time.’

He nods. ‘You are not useless.’

‘I need to do something with my time. It’s awful sitting here, with you breathing down my neck.’

He smiles. ‘How about I teach you some basic self defense tips?’

‘Please,’ I say. ‘Honestly, you could ask me to do some embroidery and I would take it.’

He places a hand on my back and actually forces me to sit on his thighs. My eyes enlarge, causing him to chuckle. ‘I meant what I said in there,’ he says. ‘Both the deer caught in the headlights part and the needy little girl part.’

Yeah, I just want to disappear and I wished that could be arranged. ‘Could we maybe not mention that. Like, ever again? I’d like to maintain some form of dignity.’

His lips graze over my cheeks. ‘Had I not found the letter opener,’ he whispers, ‘how far would you let me go?’

‘Not far. I was gonna stab you, August,’ I chuckle, but it’s a nervous one, since I can hardly focus as I sit on his thick thighs. ‘Why?’

‘Because something tells me… You’ve never done that before.’

That can’t be good. I feel like my self confidence just disappeared into thin air. ‘Was it that bad?’

‘No, no, no!’ he quickly says. ‘It’s just that your heart rate was out of the roof and… You seemed nervous.’

‘I kinda was. But mostly because I needed to stab you.’

‘Liar.’

‘I’m not a liar.’

‘You are,’ he says, before placing a kiss on my cheekbone. It’s so soft and tender, almost a full 180 of that _kiss_ he gave me in the basement, a place I will never go back to again, because I’ll probably die of shame. ‘And that’s okay.’

I want to say something, but then I hear a loud meow and August growling. ‘Stupid cat, stop doing that!’

‘The attack thing on your leg?’ I ask him.

‘Yes, what a stupid idiot.’

‘Hey, don’t talk to him like that!’ I look over and see Bobo peeking around the corner of the kitchen island. ‘I can’t believe I genuinely thought I could take Bobo with me on my little adventure.’

August pulls me closer to him. ‘It shows your character, Mia.’

I meet his eyes again. ‘You’re not mad at me anymore?’

‘I haven’t been mad at you. I know you don’t want to stay here and that is a mutual feeling. I just have to know I can guarantee your safety.’

I nod. ‘When do you think we can leave?’

‘Next week somewhere?’

‘Is it allowed for me to get wasted or am I bringing the operation in danger if I do so?’

He smiles. ‘One drink, that’s the best I can do.’

I don’t want to do it, but I press my lips against his. A quick peck, nothing compared to the kiss earlier. But it’s all I can do right now. ‘Can we start now?’

## 5 days at the safe house

‘What’s that?’ I ask August, when he places a box on the table.

Ever since my little escape debacle (I let August swear never to mention it again and so far he lips were sealed), time doesn’t go by as slowly and August actually trusts me now. I don’t have justify myself for every step I take. He teaches me some self defense, but I’m a very slow learner and he tries to be patient, but really isn’t.

It’s nice being around August, especially when he tries to be nice to Bobo.

He is just a bit uneasy around the cat.

‘It’s for you,’ he says, not making eye contact.

‘It’s not even my birthday,’ I say.

August simply shrugs. ‘I can give you gifts, right?’

‘I mean, if you want, you won’t hear me complaining. I love gifts.’ I grab the box and pull it closer to me. It’s not really tightly closed, so I can easily open it. I peek inside, only to discover a…

A soccer ball?

‘Are you serious?’ I ask him. ‘Why?’

‘Because I know you miss soccer,’ he tells me. ‘I know I can’t bring back full stadiums, screaming fans and a better opponent, but this is the least I can do. Just remember: take good care of your foot.’

‘Of course, of course.’ A smile appears on my face and I take it out of the box, balancing the ball on my hand. Memories flash through my mind. My first soccer ball, the first goal I made in amateur soccer, after that professional soccer.

I walk around the table and I give him a kiss on his cheek. Ever since kissing one another after the basement event, we didn’t do that anymore. But now feels like an appropriate time to do so? Maybe not, but it’s happening now.

I can’t go back now.

‘Since I can’t use my foot, you want to throw it with me?’

‘Of course,’ he says. However, before we can start, I sense he wants to say something to me. I wait, but he shakes it off. ‘Never mind. Let me move the couch, so we have more room.’

## 10 days at the safe house

I am in a deep sleep, when I hear some rumbling sounds in the background. I open my eyes, but I figure out it’s one of August’s nightly escapades. He does that quite often in the middle of the night. Just wandering around, moving around some things and sometimes I even hear him exercising. I wonder if he ever sleeps.

Not me though, when it’s dark outside, I’m sleeping.

I turn around and try to drift off in a nice sleep again, hoping to go back to that lovely dream again, but then my door opens. I jolt awake, when August enters my room. ‘Easy now,’ August says. ‘You’re coming with me.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘I got your clothes, your stuff, everything. Even your creepy cat worked with me and got in his carriage.’ He hands me a thick sweater and helps me in it. My head is still a bit drowsy and my body barely works. August lifts me up and I place my head against his shoulder.

‘I can walk,’ I mumble.

‘I know, but you’re sleepy,’ he whispers. ‘Besides, I don’t mind.’

That shouldn’t make me smile as much as it does.

He carries me to the car and places me in the passengers seat. He starts the car and with an illegal speed he drives off. I look over my shoulder, to see Bobo in the carriage.

‘What’s happening, August?’ I ask him. ‘Why are we leaving?’

‘We might’ve been found,’ he says, his eyes not leaving the road.

I nod. I grab his hand from the steering wheel and I hold it in both of mine. ‘I trust you,’ I whisper. ‘I really do.’


End file.
